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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23981116">Don't Fear the Reaper</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadison/pseuds/sadison'>sadison</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Vampire Diaries (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:28:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23981116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadison/pseuds/sadison</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In my head, I pretend like I haven’t made a decision yet. I pretend that I want to discuss it all with Elena, that I want Bonnie to do more research, that I want Ric to throw in his two cents before I make up my mind. But every fiber of my being knows what’s going to happen. I can feel my whole body being pulled east, as if I was compelled to get there as soon as I could. Elena and I are human now. It doesn’t really matter that vampires can’t get in without being invited or that our house is fireproof thanks to a very generous witch. We could inject vervain right into our bloodstreams every day, get armed up with an endless supply of stakes and use the power of love to protect ourselves. It. Doesn’t. Matter. We are weak, we are slow, we are prey now. If someone out there knows where we are and that I have the cure running through my veins, it’s over. Playing house is done, it’s not safe anymore.</p><p>We’re going back to Mystic Falls.<br/>___________________________________________</p><p>Alternatively, what I like to think season 9 could have been.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elena Gilbert/Damon Salvatore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A more or less (mostly less) canon compliant continuation of TVD with a few liberties taken- basically ignore everything epilogue-y. Also keep in mind I entirely disregard The Originals and Legacies canons. Obviously, there are big spoilers mixed in with the plot here, so this is definitely not for you if you haven’t finished the last episode. Which like, what are you doing here if you haven’t finished yet? Go watch the Vampire Diaries!!</p><p>I haven’t written any fanfiction in a looong time and quarantine has brought me back in a big way, baby!!! It’s me, the prodigal son. Please feel free to hit me with all sorts of comments and criticisms (I take it all very seriously- I’m trying to write an honest to god horror novel so help me be a better writer! Also this is aggressively not beta-ed [hmu if you’re interested]) and also just cry with me about Damon Salvatore. This is highkey a side project so I’m not sure about how often I’ll be updating, but I have written a pretty decent chunk already.</p><p>Love you lots thanks for reading hope you love reading it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it mwah mwah</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As quietly as I can manage in the dark, I shut the bedroom door behind me, letting the latch click into place before letting go of the knob. I’m not sure exactly what time it is, but it’s definitely the latest I’ve had to work in a long time. I’d cut back my hours manning the frontlines significantly in the past few years, but when my most reliable bartender <em>and</em> manager called out, I really didn’t have much of a choice. I’m lucky to work a job that I love, and I know that, but I’m lucky for <em>a lot</em> of reasons. When it comes down to it, there was a lot of other stuff I’d rather be doing than wiping down tables and shooting the shit with strangers until 2 AM over half finished glasses of rye. I don’t even really love rye. I unbutton my shirt and toss it across the room, aiming for the desk chair in the corner and probably missing it.</p><p>“Damon?” I hear her whisper. Amazingly, my heart still flutters at the sound of her voice, even after all this time together.</p><p>“Go back to sleep, it’s late.” I unzip my jeans and let them fall to the floor, leaving myself in just my boxers and praying she doesn’t actually listen to me.</p><p>“Why would I want to do that? I missed you,” a sleepy response drifts from the bed.</p><p>Sometimes I almost believe that there really is a higher power looking out for me.</p><p>Blindly, I put my hands down on the cool comforter and crawl to where the voice was coming from. My eyes will adjust eventually, but it’s annoying to have to wait any amount of time to see Elena’s face in the dull moonlight. It’s in moments like this that I can feel a light aching at the loss of my vamp abilities- enhanced sight, hearing, smell, speed, strength, the works. But then comes her touch. Her fingers tracing along my jaw, touching my lips, skimming along my cheek make me forget that I had ever even had anything worth losing at all. This is it, all I’ve ever wanted. On hands and knees, my face hanging above hers, her hands now skating down my neck, my collarbones, my chest. Just taking in the stillness of right now is almost overwhelming for my quickly beating heart. I love her with absolutely everything I have.</p><p>So I let my body collapse right on top of hers, splaying my arms to either side, my face finding the perfect space between her neck and shoulder. I’ve reached my quota for the mushy gushy stuff. “I don’t know, I’m pretty tired personally,” I whisper, faking a yawn at the end of my sentence.</p><p>“Damon!” Her giggle is always my favorite reward. Her arms wrap up and around my head, fingers winding in my hair. She knows how riled up I get when she pulls my hair, and it almost drives me crazy that we know each other’s minds and bodies so well. <em>Almost</em> crazy. But, like, in that best way.</p><p>“It was just <em>such</em> a long night, I barely had the energy to make it all the way up the stairs,” I continue, but my hands betray me, making their way back to her body, one sliding down her torso to her hip, the other entangling itself in her hair on the pillow. I still make sure that nearly all of my body weight is right on top of her, pressing her into the mattress. “Can hardly keep my eyes open. Unless,” my lips find their way to her throat, rubbing along the delicate skin there. “Unless you had an idea for something to keep me awake.” Her chin lifts almost automatically, giving me better access to her neck. Not one to turn down an invitation, my lips start working their way so slowly down her clavicle, sliding the strap of her tank top to the side.</p><p>Her giggles abruptly shift to shallow, quick breaths. “I could think of a thing or two,” she manages to get out, throwing a comforter covered leg over my back and tightening her grip in my hair. This is it. This is everything.</p><p>When I became human again, even though I lost an arsenal of neat parlor tricks, my sense of touch seemed to amplify, my capacity for loving another person seemed to increase tenfold. Every second seemed to matter again. I am happy. I am really fucking happy. Twenty years ago, If you had told me that this was where I’d be now, I would’ve laughed in your face and probably ripped your heart out of your chest just for the hell of it. But holy shit. I’m so happy. I smile into her skin as I pull the blankets down her body, my mouth slowly following.</p><p>“Damon…” she breathes again. God, I could listen to her moan all night. And I think I might try. But then her fingers loosen, and she takes on a new tone. “Damon.” She taps lightly on my back right where it meets the nape of my neck as if to get my attention. It feels like trying to pull apart two super magnets to lift my lips from her skin, but somehow I manage to look up at her face.</p><p>She’s looking over my shoulder behind me and quickly removes her leg from my lower back, much to my dismay. I sigh and turn back towards the now open bedroom door as she pushes herself into a sitting position, my head now resting against her stomach. I can very faintly see the outline of a tiny person at the door. The other half of my everything.</p><p>“Hey little gremlin, what’s up?” I rub a hand over my face, rolling out of Elena’s arms and throwing my legs over the side of the bed. I open my arms to her, and she makes her way across the room, dragging her favorite toy panda on the ground behind her. I have to remember to throw that in the wash tomorrow while she’s napping. She comes up between my legs and wraps her tiny arms around my middle as best she can with one hand holding tight to her toy.</p><p>“Daddy, I had a nightmare,” she says into my belly as I gently pull her into a hug. It’s almost absurd that I feel such a pang of pain in my chest at her words, considering that <em>I</em> used to be the nightmare in so many heads. And I actually kind of liked it at the time. I want to crumble at the thought of ever frightening something as small and perfect as her. Without warning, I let out a little growl, and roll back and to the side, tossing her into the bed on her back between Elena and me. It’s tough to see since she’s now clutching Andy Panda in front of her face, but I think I made her smile for a second there.</p><p>Elena clicks the lamp on the bedside table, lightly illuminating the room in a yellowish glow. ”Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry that happened,” she coos softly, running a finger through our daughter’s hair and sticking a loose piece behind her tiny ear.</p><p>Figuring that we’re probably going to have a bedbug for the rest of the night, I decide it’s best to put a t-shirt on. I stretch my arms straight up in the air and groan deeply as I stand to walk over to the dresser, hopefully giving Elena a little show at the very least. A quick glance over my shoulder as I pull a shirt out of the drawer tells me I had done well- our eyes meet and she pouts slightly. Whiny girl. She knows I’ll find the time to make it up to her at some point. I smirk at her from across the room and she gives me an offhand eyeroll before looking back down.</p><p>When I’m a little more decent and get back to the bed, I can hear tiny sniffles. I lift the kid gently to pull the blankets out from underneath her and crawl in next to her, wrapping us both into the sheets. I stay sitting upright, but she lays down and faces her mother, light whimpers continuing. “Hey, hey,” I mumble at her, rubbing her back. “It’s ok. You wanna talk about it?”</p><p>She nods her tiny head, but says nothing. Elena looks up to me, concern clear on her face. “It’s ok,” I repeat, this time to both of my girls.</p><p>“They don’t want me to,” she says quietly. “It’s secret.”</p><p>“It was just a dream, Stefanie, you don’t have to be afraid,” Elena cups her tiny cheek, and it’s like there’s an electric current running through the three of us.</p><p>She rolls over enough that I can see her face, practically drowning in pillows and blankets and black and white fur. Her big blue eyes are wet, and I feel like I’d rather take a dozen more stakes to the chest than ever have to see this look again. “There were… <em>vampires</em>,” she says, staring straight up at the ceiling.</p><p>I can’t help it. Really, I can’t. I let out a huge guffawing laugh. Elena shoots the aforementioned dozen stakes at me with her eyes, obviously not finding the humor in this that I did. I gain my composure back really quick with that. I shrug my shoulders, grimacing, and turn back to my very confused and scared daughter. My heart pings again, this time with a little more guilt. “Bug, you got nothing to fear with vampires. You know why?”</p><p>Before Stef can respond, Elena cuts in. “Because they’re not real. Right, Damon?”</p><p>I’ll just come right out and say it- Elena and I are a good team, and <em>great</em> fucking parents. I’m the cool fun dad, obviously, and she is the kind and nurturing mother. The three of us are a great little unit, with all sorts of meshing cogs and moving parts. We tend to agree on most things about raising Stefanie, but there is one huge dividing factor in how we want our kid to grow up. Elena never wants her to know about vampires. Like, ever. I clearly don’t think we should be telling our nearly five-year-old all the gory details of our lives before she came along, but she’s going to start asking questions someday, might as well get the ball rolling at some point.</p><p>I think back to a few months ago, when Stefanie went to playgroup with the neighbor kids and Elena and I had a minor overlap in our schedules. She was getting in from work, dropping her keys on the counter just as I was about to head around the corner to the bar to cover a shift for a floor manager.</p><p>
  <em>“Hey,” she said, covering her hand with mine. “How are you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Juuust dandy, as usual,” I responded, giving a half smile while avoiding eye contact and very much not wanting to get into what I knew she wanted to get into.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Damon, I-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I can’t do this right now,” I cut her off, pulling my hand back and grabbing my jacket off the hook next to the door. “I have to go to work and I can’t get all weepy like you so desperately want me to be right now.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She blinked and shook her head, mouth slightly agape as if in total shock at the bluntness of my response. She shouldn’t be shocked that this is how I get, not anymore. “Sorry that I’m just trying to check in with you,” she said with slight venom. “I know that today’s not easy for you, whether or not you want to acknowledge it.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re right. I don’t want to acknowledge it.” I just should have left at this point. For some reason, I stood there, waiting to see what she had to say back.</em>
</p><p><em>“I think we </em>should<em> acknowledge it, for Stefanie’s sake. She knows who he was, but doesn’t really know much about him. Don’t you want your daughter to feel close to your brother?”</em></p><p>
  <em>“Just stop,” I said, throwing my hands up, palms facing towards my now very upset wife. “We’ve gone over this, Elena. Thousands of times. I want to tell her about him. I want to tell her about you and me. But I can’t do that if you won’t let me tell her the whole story.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She crossed her arms over her chest. “So what? You wanna tell your four-year-old daughter that her uncle was a ripper? That her dad was a serial killer? That the three of us were literal monsters?” I’d never understood how she could maintain her cool through arguments like this. Don’t get me wrong, during some fights, she could yell and scream at me until the cows came home. But when she’s really upset, like we-have-a-fundamental-difference-here-that-will-not-be-sorted-with-a-regular-quick-fight-followed-by-mind-blowing-make-up-sex type upset, her level tone can cut me deeper than screams ever will.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We can’t keep this life from her forever. I know you’re desperate to move on and pretend that we’re human and always have been, but I spent 150 years as a monster, I’m not gonna be so quick to forget it. She lives in the world where all of this still exists, even though you want to act like the rest of it went away when we took the cure. She deserves the truth, Elena.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“She doesn’t need to know. She could go her entire human life never having to know that the world is so much darker than she thinks it is,” she restated forcefully.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I think we would be doing Stefan’s sacrifice a huge dishonor if we leave out the important details,” I confessed, lowering my voice. I don’t remember when I had even raised it in the first place. “I don’t want to tell her he died saving someone from a burning building or tackling a masked gunman in the street. He was so much more than that, and you know it. I owe it to him to tell his story the right way.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I don’t want to scare her. She doesn’t deserve to live her life afraid.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Well, shit, sorry that the world isn’t the perfect place for you to raise your perfect family in. Sorry I couldn’t just be a regular man for you to fall in love with.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She took a beat. “I’m sure Stefan would be really glad to see we’re celebrating another one of his birthdays with a fight.” With that, she turned on her heel and stomped up the stairs without looking back.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I slammed the front door behind me and started down the block to the bar. It was still early, so the building was empty and dark, lights off and shades still drawn from the night before. Without even hitting the switch next to the door to turn on the lights, I headed behind the counter and poured myself a drink. Stef’s favorite bourbon, neat. I took a sip hoping it would quell the anger I felt rising in the pit of my stomach. I hated fighting with her. I hated that she was probably right. I hated that there was no one in the world I wanted to talk to more than my little brother about all of this. The sting of tears hit the corner of my eyes, and before I could stop myself, I threw the whiskey glass at the ground, shattering it and splashing the alcohol across the tile. The bourbon didn’t fucking work.</em>
</p><p>I blink and bring myself back to the reality of the moment. Elena is staring at me, waiting for me to give the right response. I look down at Stefanie, her small body cradled between the two of us. Of course Elena is right. She always is. We have the opportunity to keep our baby girl out of the life that caused all of us so much misery. We can tell her stories with little alterations, we can change dates and names and places and she’ll still know us and get to know Stefan. I never want her to live in fear. I let out a deep sigh.</p><p>It feels so wrong to admit all of this to myself for some reason. But that’s an internal battle to be held another time. Right now, I have a kid to comfort.</p><p>“Yeah,” I whisper, running the palm of my hand over the top of her small head. “No such thing.”</p><p>Stefanie looks at me, then Elena, seemingly unconvinced. “Promise?”</p><p>I turn my eyes upwards to Elena and wait until she returns my gaze to respond. “I promise.”</p><p>We’re a good team, her and me. Sometimes it just takes us a minute to get there.</p><p>* * * * * * * *</p><p>He’s running. Towards me, away from me, I can’t fucking tell, but he’s running. Running like we used to.</p><p>Like vampires.</p><p>I think he’s calling my name, but it sounds… wrong. It’s Stefan’s voice definitely, but there’s an overlay of another voice. Kai’s voice. No. Cade’s. Klaus’s. All of them, all at once, trying to confuse me while I’m trying to help him. There’s a steady humming sound in the background and the lights are too bright and I can’t find him anywhere. I’m running too, as fast as I used to be able to, but still not fast enough. “Stefan!” I yell out, cupping my hands around my mouth to project farther.</p><p>Suddenly, I’m tripping over branches in the woods of Mystic Falls, barely recognizable in the dark. But I can feel it, I’m back. I curse at myself for losing him, for getting myself so lost in the process. I stand up, brushing debris off of my jeans before trying again. He’s still nearby, he has to be. “Stefan!” I yell again through the trees, but I only hear my voice echoing back at me like I’m stuck in a well. A well… A well?</p><p>His voice echoes in the walls surrounding me, closing in on me. I’m trapped, trapped in the knee deep water by the stones that are getting closer to my body, trapped by the thousands of calls of “Damon,” that bounce in every different direction. But then there’s a different voice. One that cuts above the rest.</p><p>“Daddy,” the lilting sound cascades down into the well like a waterfall.</p><p>“Stefanie?” I call, looking through the circular opening above me. I can see her face, miles and miles above me, her brown hair blowing in a breeze that I can’t feel. She might fall in. She might get crushed by the stones too. “Stefanie, don’t get too close! Go find Mama, she can help!”</p><p>“Daddy,” she says again with the same tone of voice. I see her hike a leg up over the edge.</p><p>I can feel the rocks getting tighter to my body, beginning to squeeze my legs while I reach up towards the light, towards my daughter. “Stop, Stefanie, no! Stef!” I’m paralyzed with fear, watching in disbelief as she pulls her other leg over the ledge of the well, sitting above me with her feet swinging carelessly. She can’t- this can’t happen. I need help. Where is Elena, where is-</p><p>“Daddy... Daddy.” Her voice is getting clearer, almost as if…</p><p>I awake with a start, confused and heart beating wildly in my chest. Stefanie’s face is inches from mine, her hands pressed against my cheeks. It takes me a moment to remember where I am and confirm with myself that this is reality. I’m not chasing Stefan. I’m not trapped in a well. I’m in my bed in my home near Portland, Oregon, with my beautiful wife and daughter. Based on the dim lighting of the room, it seems like it’s just before dawn. I slide my hands up to cover Stefanie’s on my face, blinking a few more times.</p><p>“Daddy,” she whispers to me again.</p><p>“What is it, Bug?” I breathe back shakily. I still don’t feel like this is real, stuck in that place half between sleeping and awake.</p><p>“They’re here,” she murmurs.</p><p>“Who’s here?”</p><p>“The vampires.”</p><p>I shoot up in bed. Elena is still sound asleep next to us, facing away and breathing softly. I stupidly look around the room to see no one, but the bathrobes hanging on the back of the closet door nearly give me a heart attack for a moment.</p><p>“Did you… Was it another nightmare?”</p><p>Stefanie seems… off. Last night she was pretty upset after waking up from her night terrors, but now… Now she seems uncharacteristically calm after such a Poltergeisty statement. “Yes.”</p><p>“I, uh…” I honestly have no idea how to respond. Seeing her cry over a nightmare was awful, the worst, but at least I could comfort her. Rub her back, support her, tell her everything’s going to be ok. But right now, I kind of feel like that’s what I need. “Are you ok?”</p><p>“I think so,” she says like she believes it. “Will you protect me?”</p><p>“From the nightmare?”</p><p>“From the vampires.”</p><p>I notice she almost pronounces her v’s as f’s, the word coming out like <em>fampire</em> almost every time she says it. I wonder if that’s normal or if she’s going to need speech therapy. I brush my knuckles against her rosy cheek, rubbing my thumb over the delicate frame of her face. I wonder who she’ll be in a few years, and I wonder if she’s going to be anything like me. Selfishly, I hope she’s exactly as Elena is, since I don’t think I could handle another me around. I really do blow most of the time. “Stefanie, I promise, as long as you’re with me, you’re safe.”</p><p>She smiles at me and leans into my hand.</p><p>“Why don’t we let Sleeping Beauty rest here for a little longer,” I say, glancing at the clock on Elena’s bedside table. 5:48. “Are you hungry yet? Want some pancakes?”</p><p>She nods her head excitedly and wraps her arms around my neck. I scoop her, make the obligatory hushed airplane noises to hear her giggle, and take her downstairs to the kitchen.</p><p>* * * * * * * *</p><p>Once again, if twenty years ago, you had told me I’d happily be cutting pancakes into bite sized pieces for a kid that is my very own flesh and blood, I would’ve drained you dry and thrown you in a river somewhere. And then slept with your grieving widow, just for the hell of it. But here I was, slicing and dicing, and singing an annoying song Stef had learned at playgroup, no less. She’s telling me all about how Miss Nancy, their utterly dense group leader, showed them a silly dance to go along with the tune when I hear my phone buzz near the stove.</p><p>“Hold that thought, Bug,” I say, sliding a bowl of halved strawberries into her grabby little hands. I stop at the speaker on the counter and press play. Some classical something or other that Elena picked out to “culture the baby” starts up. Not my favorite, but it’s good enough to distract Stefanie so she can’t hear me on the phone.</p><p>It’s Sunday, and the stove clock says 6:15. Probably too early for anyone local to be calling, but it’s already past 9 in Mystic Falls. My stomach drops as my dream comes back to me in bits and pieces. Running in the woods. Chasing Stefan. Being back home. The more I try to think about it, the more the dream slips away until all that’s left is a horrid sense of impending doom. What else is fucking new.</p><p>I reach for my phone and it’s more or less who I expected. I take a few steps until I’m just around the corner before answering. “Little early to be calling me, don’t you think? What if you had interrupted me and my paramour mid coitus?” I said upon picking up, not bothering with a hello.</p><p>“Nothing I haven’t accidentally called during before,” Bonnie quips back without missing a beat. I can practically see her rolling her eyes at me. God, I’ve missed her. “How are you?”</p><p>“Well, I’d be better if I was getting my lazy Sunday lovin’ on, but you know, pancakes gotta get made by somebody. What about you, Bon Bon? How’s…” I pause, stomach again doing that little lilting hitch. What the fuck is going on? “How’re the Falls?”</p><p>“Oh.” She sounds surprised. “I’m actually on the road right now. Spending some time up in Salem, getting in touch with some other Bennett witches to learn more about the history. Trying to do more research on psychics.”</p><p>I shudder at the mention of the word. I’ve almost entirely blocked the thought of Sybil out of my head, even tried to convince Caroline to compel it out of me (she claimed she couldn’t, the bitch), but she still creeps around in there, even though she’s been dead for nearly a decade now. Hate psychics, sirens, satan, all of it. “That’s nice. A little springtime family reunion,” I try to change the subject.</p><p>That doesn’t stop her. She ignores what I just said completely. “That’s uh, that’s actually why I called. Psychic stuff. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. I guess it sounds stupid now, since I would have heard from someone by now if you were visiting or something. Elena would have told me.”</p><p>“You thought we were back in Mystic Falls?” That sense of dread is getting stronger, and I don’t like it. Old Damon would have probably been excited at the prospect of something to do. Back to when Elena was under, and the Heretics were running loose, I had nothing better going on, and at first, a couple of bad guys to beat on sounded like loads of fun. Until it wasn’t anymore, but you know, it started out ok.</p><p>But now…. I glance around the corner to see Stefanie, perched in her little booster seat and two pieces of pancakes in her fists. Her cheeks are coated in red from the strawberries and she’s singing along to the classical music, making up words to go along with the sluggish melodies. I smile at her from across the room.</p><p>I’m brought back when Bonnie responds. “Yeah, I don’t know what it was. I had a dream and a feeling that you were there. Probably nothing,” she says, a laugh coming out on the last word. “Crazy Bonnie giving meaning to things that don’t mean anything.”</p><p>“Bonnie, if I’ve learned anything, and I mean absolutely <em>anything</em> over the years, it’s that I should always trust your instincts. Something’s up.” I turn and begin pacing nervously in the hall. I just feel so antsy.</p><p>She picks up on my tone quickly. I can’t believe we didn’t figure out she was psychic for so long. “Damon, has something… Happened?”</p><p>“Just, ah… Can you just calm my nerves and remind me of all the magic hocus pocus protecty stuff you did on my house?”</p><p>“I can, if you tell me what else is going on.”</p><p>“Like you said, probably nothing. Stefanie had a rough time with a couple of nightmares about vampires is all.”</p><p>“Is that all?” She pressed.</p><p>“I may or may not have also had a rough time with a couple of nightmares about vampires, too.” And witches and psychics and my long dead brother. But I leave that out. “Most likely just a result of darling dear’s night terrors.”</p><p>“Hm.” She took a second to think, and I didn’t try to make it any more difficult for her by distracting her with my charm. “I think I might end my trip a little early and head back to Mystic Falls.”</p><p>“I made a very important promise to a very small and very important person, so, really, can you remind me of all the witchy woo you did here?”</p><p>She lists off a series of charms and spells and magical items she had placed around our home when we’d moved out here a few years ago. I don’t know if it makes me feel any better.</p><p>“What should we do?” I ask her.</p><p>“Honestly, I’m not sure yet. I’m going to do some more research and talk to Ric. He might be able to help. Or, he might be the level head we need to tell us that we’re both paranoid.”</p><p>I pause a minute before asking my next question, and I have no idea what I hope the answer will be. “Should we come back?”</p><p>“Who’re you talking to so early?” I jump a mile and turn to see Elena leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen. “Hopefully no affairs going on,” she adds, smirking and crossing her arms.</p><p>“Ah, you got me,” I smile and wrap my free arm around her body, kissing the top of her head. She smells like fresh cotton sheets and sunshine. I hope she can’t tell that I am quaking in my boots. “I actually have all three of my mistresses on the line. Ever had a phone orgy? More work than it’s worth really.”</p><p>“Ew, gross. I’m pretty sure this is the end of our conversation,” Bonnie says tersely. “Can you put me on with Elena?”</p><p>“Is that Bonnie?” Elena asks, lighting up instantly, her hands coming to rest on my chest.</p><p>Into the receiver, I say, “Sure, just make sure you divulge absolutely none of our sexual exploits. I don’t want this ruining my marriage, Bon Bon,” I joke, but I hope she reads it as it’s meant: <em>Don’t tell Elena. Don’t ruin this happy bubble we’ve built up for ourselves just yet.</em></p><p>“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replies dryly, and I know she gets it. I smile and press the phone up to Elena’s ear.</p><p>“Bonnie? Hi!” She chirps excitedly, bouncing in my embrace as she takes the phone from my hand. She gets on tiptoe to kiss my cheek lightly before spinning out from under my arm and walking down the hallway towards the den to talk to her best friend. It’s hard to imagine the life each of them would have lived without each other, and I say another silent thank you to whatever god I don’t believe in that Bonnie Bennett could find a loophole as always.</p><p>I come back into the kitchen and start wiping down the counters, singing off key made up lyrics to the droning cello in whatever song was flowing from the speakers while Stefanie laughs from her booster seat.</p><p>Something bad is coming. I can feel it. All I ask is that we can have a few more good days before everything goes wrong. Another few good quiet days with Elena and Stefanie before it goes to shit. If anything happens to either of them… I can’t even let myself think of what that would be like. No more humanity switch if it came to it. Something I definitely didn’t think I would be missing from my vamp days. I shake the thought from my brain, pissed that my subconscious even let something like that flit through the cracks. About four hours ago, I was happy and comfortable as could be. Now I’m just a tightly wound coil. I feel like I’m about to snap and lose it. So I keep singing my stupid little song about monkeys while piling plates in the sink. Just keep moving.</p><p>In my head, I pretend like I haven’t made a decision yet. I pretend that I want to discuss it all with Elena, that I want Bonnie to do more research, that I want Ric to throw in his two cents before I make up my mind. But every fiber of my being knows what’s going to happen. I can feel my whole body being pulled east, as if I was compelled to get there as soon as I could. Elena and I are human now. It doesn’t really matter that vampires can’t get in without being invited or that our house is fireproof thanks to a very generous witch. We could inject vervain right into our bloodstreams every day, get armed up with an endless supply of stakes and use the power of love to protect ourselves. It. Doesn’t. Matter. We are weak, we are slow, we are prey now. If someone out there knows where we are and that I have the cure running through my veins, it’s over. Playing house is done, it’s not safe anymore.</p><p>We’re going back to Mystic Falls.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello I promise that there's not a fight in every chapter</p><p>Thanks again for reading, hope you like!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I’m laying in bed with my hands clasped on my chest, staring at the ceiling. I had checked each lock on every door and window in the house before coming upstairs, and yet, I felt a massive urge to go back downstairs just to make sure I didn’t miss any. Even though no vamps can get in without being invited, I took the liberty of spattering water steeped with vervain on every goddamn threshold in this building. Not taking chances. I ripped open the back of Stefanie’s panda after it came out of the wash and jammed the poor guy full of the stuff too. Even taught myself how to sew to put him all back together before she woke up. I’m scared. I’m scared in a way that I haven’t been in a really long time. Maybe not even since the last time I was human. I’ve been trying to convince myself all day long that I’m just being paranoid and taking precautions beyond our norm for my own peace of mind, but I really cannot shake this feeling.</p><p>Elena comes into the bedroom and shuts the door quietly behind her, almost identically to how I had done it the night before. It seems like an eternity ago already. “Hopefully no bad dreams tonight,” she says quietly, giving me a smile and two thumbs up.</p><p>I can’t help but return her grin. “C’mere.” I mumble, spreading my arms and gesturing to her. She seems all too excited to hop into bed with me. “We have to-”</p><p>“Stop,” she interrupts, rolling on top of me and putting a finger over my lips. Her face is inches away from mine. “Nods and shakes only. Understand?” She cocks an eyebrow at me.</p><p>I nod, but she keeps her finger there.</p><p>“Good. I know something’s up with you today. First your phone call with Bonnie this morning. No one calls someone that early on a Sunday unless something’s wrong. Then you acted weird all day. Do you deny any of this?”</p><p>I shake my head side to side.</p><p>“Ok. Did someone die?” She’s trying to act like she’s joking around and playing a game, but I can feel the worry in her voice when she asks this question. She knows that I would have told her right away if it was something like that, but I can tell she just needs the confirmation.</p><p>I shake my head slightly.</p><p>She lets out a small sigh before continuing. “Is someone dy<em>ing</em>?”</p><p>I shake my head again.</p><p>She is visibly relieved at this. I’m upset that she was probably immersed in her own worry all day but kept on a brave face for me and Stefanie. I hate when trying to do right by her interferes with actually doing right by her.</p><p>“Is whatever you want to talk about right now about all the weirdness?”</p><p>I nod.</p><p>“Is this thing that we need to talk about going to put our relationship at risk in any way?”</p><p>I really can’t believe she’s going to make me answer such a complicated question with a simple yes or no. Are we gonna fight about this? Probably. Is it going to absolutely wreck our marriage? Probably not, but who knows! I figure she’s probably just trying to actually make sure I’m not having an affair without having to say it out loud. As if I could do better. So I shake my head.</p><p>“Good! Then we’re not going to talk about it right now,” she says firmly, lifting herself up so that she’s straddling my stomach.</p><p>“Lena,” I groan, putting my hands on my face. “It’s important.”</p><p>She grabs my arms and pulls them to my sides. “It can wait,” she whispers. “You owe me from last night. You promised.”</p><p>I know I really should say no, we really need to talk now, but she drives me so absolutely up the wall, bat out of hell insane. So instead, for now, I play along. “Oh, did I now?”</p><p>“Yes. You did the eye thing. It spoke to me.”</p><p>“What eye thing?” I furrowed my brow and looked up at her from under my lashes.</p><p>She let go of my arm to swat lightly at my chest. “I just know whatever you have to say is serious, and once I hear this all important serious thing that we’re going to talk for a long time and eventually pass out, highly unsatisfied. So I’d rather do this first at least.”</p><p>Good Dad Damon, who cares about his family deeply and needs desperately for his wife to know that they are potentially in some pretty imminent danger, thinks for just a millisecond before handing the reins over to Selfish, Greedy, Self Serving Damon, who is all too quick to grab Elena by her waist and flip her over onto her back. She laughs, and I feel like I’ve won. But I definitely haven’t. “Tell me then, where’d we leave off last night?” I ask her, leaning over her prone body. I’m desperate to get my hands all over her, but I’m also a sucker for a good game.</p><p>“Let’s see,” she sighs, grabbing me by the sides of my face and guiding me back to my favorite spot- right at the joint of her neck and shoulder. “You were somewhere over here, I think.” She grabs both of my hands in hers, and pulls my left up to her hair and my right down to her hip. Her leg comes up and around my waist, just as it had been. “And I think I was about… Here,” she says as she digs her heel into the small of my back. “And you were busy.” Her hands snake their way to the back of my head, tugging lightly at my hair.</p><p>“Was I?” I say, playing coy, even though I want nothing more than to get back to it.</p><p>“Mmhmm,” she hums, lifting her chin and waiting, very impatiently, might I say.</p><p>“Well, if you say so,” I breathe into her throat. I can feel her shudder as I bite her gently right in the sweet spot; she’d be spurting into my mouth right now if I still had fangs. Old habits die hard. My fingers grip her hip more tightly and I skim my other hand down the side of her face, onto her neck, across her chest. Every part of her is kissable and smooth and warm. She fills every crevice of my brain, every chamber of my heart, every… every lock on every door. I shake my head to refocus. Absolute amateur move.</p><p>Trying to regain momentum, I start frantically kissing my way down her collarbone, tonguing at the edges of her bones, listening to her get all breathy and worked up. My hands slide down her thighs, and I twist her slightly using the leverage I have on my knees so that our bodies can more comfortably align. Both her legs are wrapped around me now, and she’s holding me so close that it feels like her heart is beating right out of her chest and straight into mine. I start moving my lips back upward again, sucking lightly just above her jugular and wondering whether or not I should be the asshole that gives a girl over 21 a fat hickey where everyone can see. I’ve just about decided when I notice.</p><p>I lift my head. “Why aren’t you wearing your necklace?” I ask her. For our anniversary this past year, I had given her a silver mother and child necklace, custom made with a small sprig of vervain cast directly in the metal. Back then, it almost felt like more of an inside joke. What did we even need it for in our safe little suburb, so far away from the dangerous life we used to live? Everyone else seemed in on it as well- Ric had sent us a whole potted vervain plant even though we have huge canisters of the dried herb in the basement, “just in case you need to start supplying for Portland.” Elena dutifully planted it beside our front steps, insisting I send a picture of her giving the finger with dirt coated hands to everyone back home, telling them she had orders coming in already. This was supposed to be a safe place, where we could walk around at night and raise our kid and joke about how far away all the bad times were and we weren’t supposed to ever have to worry. What a stupid notion.</p><p>“Damon, what-” She must notice how panicked I suddenly am because her entire demeanor shifts. “Damon?” Her hands glide to either side of my face to ground me.</p><p>“Where is it?”</p><p>She’s trying to read me, but I can’t tell how much information she’s getting from just a look. “I took it off before I took a shower this morning. It’s probably still in the bathroom.”</p><p>I’m contemplating whether or not I should fully decimate the moment by getting up to find the damn thing and welding the clasp shut when it’s back on her body. She interrupts my whirring thoughts.</p><p>“Something’s really wrong,” she says softly, and I know that she understands how deeply this runs. I’m no good at keeping secrets from her anymore.</p><p>I take a breath and collapse onto her chest. Her fingers find their way back to my hair, but instead of urgent, desperate yanks, it’s gentle strokes against my scalp. I’ve seen her pull this same move with Stefanie about a thousand times before.</p><p>She shifts slightly under me, presumably getting comfortable for what she knows is about to be a long conversation that definitely includes absolutely no sex. What a shitty husband I am.</p><p>* * * * * * * *</p><p>I really didn’t know how she was going to take it. She was entirely silent while I told her about Stefanie’s second dream and how weirdly calm she was. I told her what I could remember about mine, though there wasn’t much left in my head other than the bad vibes it had left behind. The soothing rhythm she scraped gently on my head didn’t waver as I told her about how Bonnie had a feeling that didn’t seem to amount to anything more than that just yet, but she felt it strongly enough to call. I wanted her to say something, ask a question, tell me that I was insane. But she didn’t say anything. Just kept running her fingers through my hair over and over and over, lulling me into a trance as I finished filling her in.</p><p>Now we’re just laying here in silence, and I’m wondering when she’s going to say something.</p><p>But she doesn’t.</p><p>So I make my dumbest move of the day.</p><p>“We’re packing tonight and leaving for Mystic Falls tomorrow,” I say quietly but definitively.</p><p>Her fingers stop their stroking, but she still doesn’t say anything.</p><p>So I make my <em>next</em> dumbest move of the day.</p><p>I push off of her, decidedly not looking her in the face, and head to the closet. I’m not sure where we keep the luggage anymore, it’s been so long since we’ve really travelled anywhere. If anyone wants to see us, they come here for the most part, and with the bar and Elena’s unpredictable schedule, it’s tough to plan a real vacation anyway. We haven’t even been to Mystic falls in… God, has it really been this long? Elena finished her undergrad at Whitmore about six years ago, and she didn’t even stop to take off her mortarboard before we hopped in my car and drove west. She told me that school was the only thing really holding her in Virginia at that point, that she was so anxious for us to start the life I had set up for us years before. The house we now call home had been unlived in for too long, she claimed, and once she finished college and got into med school out here, we were out. It broke my heart watching her say goodbye to everyone on graduation day, and I’ll admit, even I got a little choked up during my last shots with Ric, but this is what she wanted. So we left and never looked back, just the two of us against the world.</p><p>I flick on the light in the closet and see a small duffle bag in the corner, buried under a pile of shoes. It won’t be enough to pack everything we need, but it’ll be a symbolic start. I actually think I remember seeing the big suitcases down in the basement, but I can get those later. For now, I grab the smaller bag and toss it to the empty spot on the bed next to Elena, still without looking at her face. As I head to the dresser to start rummaging through, I can’t help but let my mind wander to those early days of her and I beginning our life together. She was supposed to start school in September, already wondering so preemptively about her residency and whether or not she should go into studying surgery like she had originally intended. What she didn’t account for in this time period was how absolutely hot and heavy we were going to be for each other- I’m talking <em>days</em> without wearing clothes. What should have been obvious to both of us was not even a whisper of a thought in my head. I hate thinking about Stefanie, my absolute reason for breathing, as a mistake, but we definitely weren’t expecting two lines on the pregnancy test just yet. It was late August when we found out. It was bittersweet; Elena would have to put off school and her career for the time being, but we were gonna have our own little munchkin. The sweetest kind of bittersweet I’ve ever felt.</p><p>I stuff fistfulls of shirts and underwear into the duffle and think about her, probably fast asleep just a few doors down the hall. It suddenly felt so far away, not even a baby monitor to connect her to us anymore. I should probably buy a set when we’re on the way. If Stef’s going to have her own room wherever we’re staying, I’m going to want to be able to at least hear if something’s up. Ah, shit, and I’ve gotta-</p><p>“Damon,” she finally says. I stop, fingers clasped on the zipper, and look up to meet her eyes. There are a thousand emotions and thoughts running through her head, I can feel it, but I can’t tell what any of them are. “What the hell are you doing?”</p><p>“I’m packing, Elena.” I’m already frustrated with this conversation, there’s just too much going on in my mind to talk about it now. I shouldn’t have told her, I should have just packed the car, told them we were headed to the park in the morning, and gotten on the highway. “It’s not safe here, and we’re leaving.”</p><p>“A little girl has a nightmare and suddenly it’s time to head for the hills?” She’s already frustrated too, shaking her head. “We can’t run away every time she’s scared of the boogeyman, that’s insane.”</p><p>“It’s not <em>just</em> a nightmare,” I shoot back. “You didn’t see her face, you didn’t hear it in Bonnie’s voice. Something bad is coming, and I’m not letting my family sit around to wait for the danger to walk through our goddamn front door!”</p><p>She gets up, and stomps around to the other side of the bed, standing in between me and the bag that I was still gripping onto. “So, what? You make this big decision to uproot our life without even talking to me first?” She reaches into the bag and pulls out my clothes. She presses them to my chest. “Put all of this back, Damon, we’re not going anywhere.”</p><p>“Elena,” I push through gritted teeth. I can feel the heat radiating off of her body. “What are you not getting? It’s. Not. Safe. Here.”</p><p>She inches closer to my face. “You’re paranoid and overreacting. Take a breath.”</p><p>“And you’re in denial, Elena. I am <em>human</em> now,” I’m practically spitting out the words at her, unable to control my rage. Why can’t she just listen to me? Trust me? “Stefan’s not here to swoop in and save the day. <em>None</em> of our friends are. I. Can’t. Protect. You. <em>Either</em> of you.”</p><p>“Bonnie’s done all kinds of protection spells-”</p><p>“Yeah, on the house, but what are we going to do? Never leave?”</p><p>“-and we’re so careful about who we let in here,” she continues on as if she didn’t even hear me. “We both keep up on research and there are no random animal attacks, no evidence of-”</p><p>“Elena. We’re leaving, it’s <em>done</em>.”</p><p>“Listen, I don’t know which of your issues you’re <em>actually</em> trying to cope with right now, but we’re not leaving Oregon, and we’re <em>definitely</em> not going back to Mystic Falls.” She gives the shirts another little shove to my chest and I bring my hand up to close around them before she lets go. “It’s safe here, Damon, we’re going to be ok.” She took a few steps away from me and turns around, heading for the door.</p><p>“This is so you,” I say, shrugging and letting my head roll to the side. I’m running on four hours of bad sleep and half a pancake from this morning. It’s the ‘consequences of what I say don’t matter’ point of my day. “You don’t want to go back to Mystic Falls because it’s going to ruin the illusion.”</p><p>She stops and turns back to me. She wants to cut in, but I don’t let her.</p><p>“Harder to forget all the bad things that happened there if I make you go back,” I continue icily, stepping towards her with my hands facing upwards. A shirt falls out of my grasp and onto the floor. “You’re trying to pretend like it never happened at all.”</p><p>“Damon,” she says as a warning.</p><p>“What, am I striking a nerve?” I’m doing that thing again. That self sabotaging thing I do where I try to prove to everyone that I really am The Asshole. But I can’t stop myself. “This is what you do, you build a wall to separate yourself from the pain. Brother dies? Burn down your childhood home. Boyfriend gets sent to a prison world? Forget that you ever loved him. You’re willing to put all of us at risk because you can’t handle being back there, even though that’s where we’ll be the safest.”</p><p>Her eyes look like they’re about to spill over, and I feel like a dick. But I know I’m right.</p><p>“I need a break,” she says, wiping her eyes as she turns around and opens the bedroom door. As she heads down the hall, she shakily says over her shoulder, “I’m going for a drive to clear my head.”</p><p>I toss all of what I’m holding onto the bed and let out a huff of air. Could have gone better. Could have gone worse, I guess, but also could’ve gone much, much better. We really should have fucked first.</p><p>I feel a jolt when I remember what set this whole thing in motion. “Ah, shit,” I say aloud to myself as I run to the bathroom attached to our bedroom. On the edge of the sink glints the mother and child necklace, and I feel all my anger dissipate and reveal the emotion I was trying to mask: fear. Plain and simple, I’m scared shitless for the three of us. I don’t know what’s coming, and I’m not sure what they want- though I do have my theories. None of them are good. I grab the necklace and rush down the hall.</p><p>“Elena, wait!” I call down the stairs just as she’s shutting the front door. I take two steps at a time as I run down, sliding around the corner and throwing the door open. “Lena!”</p><p>She turns around, ten feet from the stoop, tired, exasperated, annoyed. “Can I at least drive around the block by myself just a few times to calm down? Am I allowed to make that decision for myself?”</p><p>I can’t help but notice how gorgeous she is right now- the sun is just beginning to set, and the golden hour rays are hitting her so perfectly, illuminating her face with a deep yellow tint. I close my eyes, and clench my fist a little tighter around the necklace. “Just… Can you ease my mind a little and wear this if you’re going to?” Opening my eyes back up, I extend my arm to her, letting the little pendant dangle from the chain between my fingers.</p><p>She sighs, and her expression softens. She steps to me, but rather than just taking the necklace, she takes my hand and entangles our fingers.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” I say quietly after a moment of silence.</p><p>“Mmm,” she hums an affirmation. “I know.” I can still feel the tension between us, but it’s lighter. We may not be on the same page yet, but maybe the same chapter. Getting there. Always getting there.</p><p>Rather than taking the chain, she spins around, showing me her back. She lifts her hands and pulls all of her hair up in her fist. Taking the hint, I let my fingers glide over her skin as I clasp the jewelry around her neck before kissing the top of her head. She turns to face me again. “Just a few times around the block,” she says. “I’ll pass the house every five minutes. You can time me.”</p><p>I give her a half smile. “We gonna be ok?”</p><p>She matches my expression, her hand coming to my face to brush my cheek. “You can be mean,” she states simply. “Like, really mean.”</p><p>I nod my head slightly in agreement. “Yeah, I’m a douche. I think that’s why my wife likes me so much. She's into dickheads.”</p><p>I get the smallest, tiniest, fragment of a laugh. A win. “She must be an idiot.”</p><p>I let my arms wind around her, pulling her body close to mine. “I’m sorry I’m a mean asshole and say things that I shouldn’t, but I’m really worried.”</p><p>She starts to pull back when she feels the argument beginning to break through the barrier. “Damon, look, I-”</p><p>I just need one more second of her attention. Just one. “I know it freaks you out. I know <em>I</em> freaked you out, and I’m sorry. Just… Just take your drive. Think about it, please. I’m not saying we move there permanently. Just a trip until we get this shit figured out. That’s all I’m asking for.” Her expression is absolutely unreadable as she stands frozen in my arms, eyes locked on mine while I’m attempting a compromise. I’m trying to send her every emotion I’m feeling, every thought I’m having, but maybe I look just as unreadable as her. She pulls my face down and kisses my lips gently, and I can suddenly read her loud and clear. <em>I love you so much, but I hate what you’re doing to me right now</em>. I can feel it in every bone. Our foreheads come together when our lips separate, and all I can think about is how I lost her before, and I can never let it happen ever again. I’ll do anything to keep her and Stefanie safe. “I’m going to set a stopwatch on my phone,” I mumble. “Five minutes, on the dot. I’m gonna get the crossbow if you’re even a second over.”</p><p>“Everything’s going to be ok,” she murmurs back, pulling me into a goodbye hug. Her arms are tight around my neck, and I return the squeeze around her waist. I’m really calming down, about to be ok, until she gasps. “Damon.”</p><p>I release her and push her back in slow motion, the memory of how fast I used to be making me feel like I’m drowning in tar as I try to assess what’s happening. Her eyes are wide, her expression completely legible now- it’s mirroring my fear. “What?” I manage to gasp out.</p><p>Her hand is back at my cheek, pressing on my skin and turning my face to look back at our front door. At first I don’t see anything- I’m trying to find immediate threats, vampires with their fangs out, a werewolf mid-shift, a coven of witches about to start chanting. But there’s… nothing. It takes me a full three seconds to see what she has that’s scared her so bad.</p><p>It would be innocuous to any other family- maybe at worst, some troublemaker kids from the neighborhood wreaking havoc or something. But to us, it has a significant, sinister meaning.</p><p>The gifted vervain plant from Ric has been ripped from the dirt next to our front step. It’s entirely gone, leaving nothing but a shallow hole in the ground and a mess of upturned soil in its wake. The few surrounding plants are unscathed. It was there when I had come home last night from working at the bar, I’m sure of it… I think. It had to have been, I would have noticed. Someone was here. Someone was here and they took a means of our protection, they left us a message.</p><p>Someone was here… And they know.</p><p>Her hands are on my back now, pushing me, and she’s saying something, but I can’t hear her over the rushing of the blood pumping in my ears. I take one step, take another step, but I’m so lost in my human-speed thoughts that I can barely see straight. Am I even moving? It sounds like I’ve been fully submerged in water, Elena’s voice above the surface, dragging me out.</p><p>“The sun, Damon, get inside! The sun!”</p><p>I look down the street and see that, yes, indeed, the sun is just beginning to set below the trees in the distance. Any vamps that can’t be out in the day are probably about to reemerge- and most likely head straight for us. My head and body finally begin working in tandem again once everything’s all caught up and I grab at Elena’s hands as we bolt for the front door, slamming it shut behind us. I press my back against the wood after I’ve locked it, sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor.</p><p>Elena’s already on the phone, probably trying to reach Jeremy. It’s been a few weeks since he’s called- said he was heading up the California coast with some other hunters he had found on his most recent vigilante trip. He might be relatively close by at this point. I don’t even know where my phone is right now, but I should probably track it down to call Ric and tell him to get ready for some house guests.</p><p>“He’s not answering, why is he not answering?” She asks rhetorically.</p><p>“Probably getting mauled to death by mountain lions somewhere.”</p><p>“Damon, I-”</p><p>“I know,” I interrupt her for the final time tonight. I don’t know if she was going to berate me, or ignore my comment and ask a question, or tell me to do something for her, but it doesn’t matter. I understand.</p><p>She’s crying now, for real, and coming to me. I open my arms, not unlike how I did for our daughter the night before, and she lowers herself into me. Her shaking frame rests against me, and I hold her tight, lips resting on top of her head. “I can’t… I don’t want to go back,” she sobs, curling into herself.</p><p>“I know,” I repeat. I’m going to get up in a minute and pack. I’m going to collect every weapon we have in the house and all of the vervain from the basement. I’m going to take a dining room chair up to Stefanie’s room and sit next to the window, stake in hand until the sun comes up. I’m not sure yet how we’re going to get to Mystic Falls, what we’re going to do to protect ourselves on the way there, how we’re ultimately we’re going to solve this problem. But it can wait a minute. I hold Elena while she quietly cries against my chest. “I know.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, lovelies! Thanks for your patience while waiting on this chapter. I ended up rewriting it like five times all the way through because it kept getting really rambly and the story kept getting lost- at one point it was literally 22000 words and practically nothing happened. I still wasn't crazy with the result after a ton of editing, so I split the chapter in two and think it works a lot better this way, even if this one's a little on the shorter side. I still have some editing work to do on chapter 4 but wouldn't be surprised if I had it up by tomorrow night or the night after. Hope you enjoy, and again as always, let me know your thoughts, constructive criticism especially! Thanks for reading :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I blink hard, trying fruitlessly to stay alert, but it’s been a long few days. My uselessly human body is exhausted and my back aches from sitting up in an uncomfortable chair all night. Outside my daughter’s bedroom window, the sun is finally beginning to rise, turning the sky from a deep purple to a pastel pink along the trees and houses on the horizon. I don’t know if I’m relieved that nothing else seemed to go awry in the night or even more worried than I was before. What are they waiting for? I guess that realistically, the sun doesn’t do much for us. We’re pretty positive that there are vampires in our suburb to some degree, but that doesn’t mean that they’re working alone- they could compel humans or be buddies with a witch or two that can wander into our home any time of day. Sunlight might just be giving us a false sense of security. Maybe they’re waiting until we least expect it. I put my forehead against the window pane, trying to focus and see if I can spot anything suspicious in the growing dawn light.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elena’s hand presses to my cheek. “You should get some sleep,” she says in a hushed tone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I don’t look at her because I know she’ll win if I do. “Just gonna hang out a little longer. We should hit the road right when Stefanie wakes up. No point in wasting time.” Elena and I had packed up every necessity in the household last night, from the dusty vervain dart guns to Teddy Grahams. Everything was stacked compactly in the foyer, and now that the sun was starting to come up we can transfer it all to the car and go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her fingertip traces along the outer edge of my ear, and I can’t help but lean into the soothing touch. “You have to take care of yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pfff.” I roll my eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighs, and plops herself down in my lap so that her back is to the window. She puts a finger under my chin and guides me to look her in the eye. “I know you love when I do this, but if we’re dropping everything and going home,” -I try to ignore how hollow the word home sounds coming from her mouth-</span>
  <span> “then we’re gonna do it my way. Ok?” She stares at me expectantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I loosely wrap my arms around her waist. “Alright, so I’ll take a nap before we go. But why do I feel like ‘my way’ insinuates a lot of other changes to the plan?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because it does,” she smiles, but her tone is serious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I don’t want to fight with her anymore. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We’re a team, we’re a team, we’re a team</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I think to myself. “What else, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” she snakes her arms around my neck and rests her back on the glass behind her. “How about let’s start with a nap for now, and we’ll talk when you wake up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I want to argue, but the mantra is still running through my head- not to mention, the thought of crawling into my bed right now doesn’t sound like a half bad idea. “It’s hard to negotiate when the other negotiator is so unfairly hot,” I whine, lightly smacking her ass as an emphasis.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elena smiles, gives me a quick peck on the lips like a signature on a treaty, then stands, holding her hand out to me. Reluctantly, I take it, and feel every joint in my body pop as I get up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait,” I whisper, pulling back. On tiptoe, I make my way over to Stefanie’s bed. It’s only been a few weeks since we leveled her up from her toddler bed to a full twin, and I still can’t get over how tiny she looks sleeping in it. She’s clutching onto her panda for dear life, her little fingers twitching in his fur. Her short brown hair is mussed up into a rat’s nest on the top of her skull and her tiny lips are just barely parted- it’s so quiet that I can hear her mouselike breathing. I kneel down next to her and brush a tiny knotted lock off of her forehead. She makes a small squeaking noise and her nose scrunches up- I hope she’s not having another nightmare. I lean in and kiss the top of her head and hopefully soothe any of the fears that may be running through there. “Sleep well, kid,” I murmur before getting back up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elena’s watching us, a small frown shadowing at the corners of her mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without a word, I hug her tightly. I wish the world would stop hurting her. I wish I could stop being the root of everything bad in her life. I’m still blanketed around her when she pulls me to the bedroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>* * * * * * * * </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m running again. I sprint by the well, ignoring Enzo’s voice drifting through the opening. He wasn’t saying anything, it was just his empty voice. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard it, I almost didn’t recognize it. I look back over my shoulder, but the well’s gone. Miles behind me by now. I can’t hear Enzo anymore, but I know he’s still in here somewhere.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m sure I’ll be able to make it out of the woods this time, before… Before something. I don’t know what’s chasing me. Or what I’m chasing? It’s quiet. I feel words coming out of my mouth, trying to break the monotony, but I can’t hear them. I’m yelling, but the forest is silent around me, waiting. Waiting for what?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I slow to a walk and know I’m close to whatever it is, but I can’t hear or taste or smell what I should be able to with my vampire abilities. How can I track what I can’t sense? I should be able to hear my own words, taste the heavy dampness that comes after a rainstorm, smell the blood that I see splattered across the ground in front of me. Nothing. I turn to the right and see the Salvatore mausoleum, decrepit and falling apart, yet somehow still standing sturdy. The door is open and I can feel that Elena’s inside. I’m sure if I can find Elena everything will be ok. She can help me. I take a step and it’s like I hit a button somewhere. I can hear it all, taste it all, smell it all. It’s a familiar feeling, the blood rushing to my head, the skin around my eyes heating up and pulsating. My gums ache with the sensation of predatory fangs breaching the surface. I need her, I need her, I need her…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My eyes flutter open. My normal, human eyes. My fingers find the edges of my orbital bones, half expecting to feel bulging veins, but they’re not there. They haven’t been in about… Eight years. Has it really been that long?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the haze of sleep, it takes me a minute to adjust and realize that something’s not right. The light in my bedroom doesn’t look the way I think it should. I only wanted to rest for an hour or so maximum, just enough to keep my eyes open until we got on the road. Elena had gone to bed the night before, so in the plan in my head, I was going to sleep in the car for a bit, she would drive for a few hours, we could switch when I woke up. We could </span>
  <em>
    <span>easily</span>
  </em>
  <span> make it 15 hours away from here before we had to hunker down for the night, almost halfway to Virginia. It was a flawless plan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the sun’s rays across the far wall make it seem like I slept a lot longer than an hour.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I sit up and grab for my phone on the bedside table- it’s almost 2:30. Almost 2:30? That gives us about five and a half hours to put as much highway between us and Portland before sunset- no. Less. We’ll be going east, driving straight into nightfall. How long would we be able to drive before we would have to stop? Probably not the 15 hours I was hoping for- Stef wouldn’t be able to handle having to be in the backseat of the car for so long. Plus, it’s not worth risking one of us falling asleep at the wheel in the middle of the night going 75 and crashing into a barn in some grassland in bumfuck middle America. “Elena?” I yell as I’m jumping out of bed and tripping to pull my pants on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kitchen,” she calls back as casually as if we were just planning on lounging and watching a movie and not running clear across the country for our lives.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m down the stairs in a heartbeat, catching the bannister to turn the corner into the kitchen. Elena and Stefanie are sitting at the table with a pad of paper and some markers, coloring away. She knows I’m not about to start a fight in front of the kid. Crafty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be mad,” she starts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, Daddy,” Stefanie beams at me. “I drew a pig.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, Bug,” I half smile back at her, before turning to my wife with a less than half smile. “I’m not mad. Why would I be mad? No, that would be absurd if I were to be mad.” I’m mad. I pointedly take my phone out of my pocket and check the time. I look back up at her and she hasn’t even capped the blue marker she’d been doodling circles with. “Let’s just go, we can talk later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t make any motion to get up, but taps her own phone on the table to check it. “This is what we do. We make decisions behind each others’ backs, we hurt each other, but we know it’s only because we love each other. Right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I don’t think I like where this is going and neither does my poor overworked human heart, thrumming away in my chest and screaming </span>
  <em>
    <span>Go! Go! Go!</span>
  </em>
  <span> “What kinds of decisions are we talking about here? Pizza toppings? Because I certainly know you’re not talking about turning my alarm off so that I’d sleep all the daylight away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really</span>
  </em>
  <span> hoping it’s not a big decision about not going on our fun little vacation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She rolls her eyes. “Damon, you were exhausted. You had to sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I have to work </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> hard to not chuck my phone as hard as I can into the wall. “And now I’ve slept. And now we’re leaving.” I turn to the foyer and see that everything we had packed was still right where we had left it the night before. Is she trying to kill me? I turn back to her, eyes wide, but her hands are already up, motioning for me to slow it down. I count backwards from 10 in my head. 10… She didn’t even pack the car. 9… We still have to pack the car. 8…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She interrupts my silent anger management. “I got in touch with Jeremy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My hand shot up to clutch the side of my neck. “Ohhh,” I groan dramatically. “Sorry, think I just got a little whiplash from that subject change.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He and….” She glances to Stef, who’s back in her farm daydream and drawing what could potentially be either a chicken or a cow. Elena strokes over the top of her head to smooth her wispy loose hairs down. “He and a friend are driving up. I got a hold of him right after you fell asleep and they were north of Sacramento and heading our direction anyway. I knew you wouldn’t want to wait if you woke up early enough, but since they’re almost here…” She looks at me pleadingly, but I want to hear the rest of what she has for me before I say my piece. “They’re going to come, and they can protect us, and there will be more of us driving so we can go for longer. We could make it in two days. Plus they have way more supplies.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ok, great, adding two hunters to our list of potential casualties. I don’t want to have to talk in code because we’re with Stef. I want to hash this out, get mad because she didn’t tell me about all of this in the first place, get madder because she’s probably right. Again. I exhale. “So what now? We sit around and wait?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“More or less. I can make you grilled cheese if you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once again, I want to disagree and tell her this was stupid, we should have left, Jeremy could have followed behind us and caught up wherever we stopped, etc. But she makes really damn good grilled cheese. “When’s the teenybopper getting here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“By now, they’re probably less than 30 miles out.” She stands up, running her fingers through Stef’s hair again, and makes her way to me. She rests her forearms on my shoulders and smiles at me. “And he’s 31 now. Stop calling him that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I kiss her forehead, my hands finding her hips. “We’re leaving by 3:15 whether they’re here or not,” I whisper into her skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair enough,” she responds, letting a hand come down to trace my jaw. “Thank you for being understanding. I know you’re pissed. You’re handling it well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I?” I ask. “I feel like if I was handling it well, you wouldn’t know I was mad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re handling it well for you.” She kisses me on the lips, slowly and deeply, before pulling away. “Cheddar or mozzarella?” She asks, twisting out of my hands and heading to the fridge. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s really hard being the so-called better man. Stefan told Elena that I had reached that point when he died, that I was finally </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> for her. He didn’t give any advice about how to maintain that standing or how to up my game even further- be the ever coveted </span>
  <em>
    <span>best</span>
  </em>
  <span> man, if that even exists outside a wedding scenario. There’s no guidebook on right and wrong or what to do when your family’s in trouble and you have two strong willed people trying to helm the ship. I take a seat at the table next to Stefanie, and look at the odd shapes she’s drawn up. What’s best for <em>her</em>? What’s going to keep her safest? I watch her tiny hands expertly grasp two markers at once and draw a big square with both- one red square stacked on top of a blue one. She draws a big goofy smile right in the middle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I feel moderately justified in my stupidly symbolic answer to Elena’s question. “You pick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>* * * * * * * *</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s only about 10 minutes before I hear a car pulling into the driveway. “Has Jer always been this much of a leadfoot?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elena had just sat back down at the table with us. She taps her phone again and looks to me, clearly confused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is Uncle Jeremy here?” Stef perks up excitedly and makes a motion to stand on her booster seat as she is often apt to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I put my hand on her shoulder and push her back down onto her bottom. No time for any cracked open skulls today. “Sit tight right here, ok?” I say to Stefanie before nodding to Elena. I meant it for her too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I walk slowly to a window that overlooks the driveway and push aside the sheer curtain. Next to Elena’s SUV is a silver Camry- definitely not a vampire hunting car. Definitely one I’ve seen before, though. I recognize the dinged fender from when he had clipped the telephone pole outside the bar one night when he was high out of his mind. Toddy’s a good person, he’s just had a lot of trouble in life. Stefan was an addict too, in his own right, so I can’t help but have some sympathy for the guy. He’s been working for me for almost as long as the bar’s been open and I make sure he knows I’m always here to listen if he needs someone to talk to. He’s been doing a lot better lately though, and this is probably the worst timing for him to be having a relapse. “It’s just Toddy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elena’s face softens compassionately when I turn back to her. He was really good to us when the baby was born, always covering extra shifts when I had to stay home and even cooking and bringing over some meals for us. “What are you going to tell him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dunno. Depends what’s up.” I hate to say it, but if he’s tweaking, I might just have to tell him we have a family emergency and call one of the other guys to come talk him off the ledge. Even worse than that, if he’s in super bad shape, I might just have to call an ambulance and jet. He’s a friend, but there’s only so much I can do for him right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I make my way outside and head to his car. It’s a shame we couldn’t have just sat on our back deck all day today. It’s starting to get warm again, and the sun’s high and bright. Perfect time to laze and enjoy spring. I can barely see him through the glare on the tinted glass, but I can tell it already doesn’t look good. He’s wearing sunglasses and his hands are still gripping the wheel at ten and two even though the car’s off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I knock a knuckle against the passenger side window. He barely cracks it. “You alright, man?” I ask. I can hear his shallow, jilted breathing from here. “What’s going on, Toddy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to, I really didn’t,” he sobs out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuck. He’s really bad off. I bend lower so I can get my face closer to the open window. “Todd, it’s ok. It happens. What’d you take?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I can hear him muttering something quietly under his breath, but I can’t quite make it out. Maybe a “don’t wanna,” or something similar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take out my phone and check the time again, resting my arms on top of the car. Jeremy’s going to be here any minute and we have to get on the road. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Listen, I’m really sorry, but we have a family emergency and we're leaving town. Like, really soon. Rob’s working right now, I can call him and he’ll be here in a few minutes to take you home and get you sorted out, ok, buddy? You’re gonna be alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Damon, I’m so sorry.” He opens his car door to get out and shakily stands. “They said you could help me,” he rasps as he straightens himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who did?” Todd’s not usually one of those paranoid, hearing voices type of druggie, but I have no clue what real person he’d be talking about that wouldn’t have just helped him themselves already. I’m going to feel like even more of an asshole if he ends up having some kind of psychotic break in the midst of this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They said you could fix me,” he restates. “I just have to…” His face is filled with remorse, even half hidden behind his aviators. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m calling Rob. You’re going to be ok,” I repeat, looking back down at my phone and scrolling through my contacts. I see him coming around the car towards me, but don’t think anything of it. I don’t notice the tire iron he’s got clutched in his fist until it’s colliding with the side of my skull. My phone bounces off the roof of the Camry and clatters to the driveway when I smack against the side of the vehicle, and oddly enough, I hear the glass striking the pavement before I feel the sharp aching throb through my head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck? What the fuck!</span>
  </em>
  <span> I see stars dancing at the corners of my vision, but I can already tell he didn’t hit me nearly hard enough to do any real damage. He swang that shit like he’d never even played baseball a day in his life. Or, at the very least, like someone who really didn’t want to hurt the person he was hitting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry,” he cries out from behind me, voice filled with agony.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s heading to my house. This is no bad trip. This is something way worse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I have no time to feel dizzy right now, so I ignore the light spinning sensation to turn and lunge, trying to channel </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> bit of my vampire self that was left behind to get to him faster. Thankfully, he’s a lot closer to me than I was expecting and I easily make contact. He must have hesitated after clocking me. I grapple onto his left leg and trip him up, sending him face down onto the ground in front of my stoop. He tries to kick free of me, grabbing onto the closest baluster of my railing to pull himself up, but fuck if I’m budging. I wrap my other arm around his other leg and yank him backwards, the sudden tug breaking his grip on the wrought iron.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to! They said I have to!” He yells as I turn him over and pin him to the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My heart is racing in that fight or flight kind of way and I can hear the blood pumping in my ears. I haven’t felt this way in a long time and I'm waiting for that familiar killer instinct to rear its head, try to convince me to snap his neck, but I don’t feel it. It’s just… Not there. My body wants me to run, every nerve ending in my body blaring at me to get the hell out of there. They're telling me I'm the rabbit. “Toddy! Todd, stop, it’s me, it’s Damon!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His glasses were knocked off when he fell, and I can see the tears streaming from his squinting eyes. “They told me I’ll die!” He shouts, writhing and thrashing beneath me. It doesn’t surprise me, but somehow still shocks me, when he snaps at me with his teeth. I'm the rabbit... Staring straight into the eyes of the fox. The souped up blood thirsty fox.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Todd, no, no, no,” I say aloud as I jolt backward and put my forearm across his throat to keep his fresh fangs from sinking into my neck. “Who did this to you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t respond, just keeps baring his teeth at me and trying to find purchase. He’s a lot scrawnier than I am and I’ve hit the gym a few times a week pretty much since I’ve turned, but he’s stronger than normal in this state. In this transition state. Not yet fully a vampire, able to walk in the sun still. Able to get inside the house without invitation. He manages to hook an arm and leg around me in just the right way to take the upper hand. And then we’re rolling. Fuck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m not sure what happens to him if he drinks from me. Will he still turn? Will the cure work if he’s only in transition? I know one thing for certain- if he drinks from me now and miraculously </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> bleed me dry, I’m going to die anyway. Without the cure running through my bloodstream, I’ll start aging just like Katherine did. I’ll physically be in my 70’s or 80’s a few weeks from now if my body will even make it that far before it craps out on me. My hands are on his neck, holding him up and away, but he’s got the advantage. I think about Elena inside and hope to God she doesn’t try to help me. She’d better be protecting-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My eyes water at the thought of my daughter. I hope she has no idea what’s going on out here. I really hope I’ve told her I love her enough times for it to stick. I can’t say I remember much about being four, but maybe she’ll be able to. If she’s going to have to grow up without a dad, I want her to be able to remember how fucking much I loved her. That’s all I ask for. It’s all I can think about as my arms shake with exhaustion as Todd’s unrelenting strength pushes him closer and closer to my throat. I close my eyes. Que sera, sera and all that shit.</span>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ended up doing a lot more editing and rewriting on this chapter than I was expecting. This one's a little longer and absolutely kicked my ass!! I did a lot of research for it (aka watched a shit ton of Damon and Elena compilation videos on youtube) and it destroyed me emotionally, haha. Just wanted to get this up and didn't proofread it as hard as I probably should have- might have to come back later to look it over again, but this is definitely the chapter I'm the happiest with right now. Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I’m expecting the sting of the puncture, but it doesn’t come. Instead, I hear a low grunt coming from Todd’s throat and he stops fighting me. I open my eyes to see what the fuck just happened. His face has gone slack, his mouth is slightly open. Shit. I let him fall to the side, the stake sticking out of his back hitting the driveway with a dull <em> thud </em>. Jeremy’s standing behind him, looking entirely unlike someone who voluntarily hunts vampires for a living. He’s not even wearing black. I let my eyes slip shut again for a second just so that I can take a breath and steady my heartbeat a little. “Hi, Jer. Long time no see.”</p><p>“Hey, Damon.”</p><p>“Damon!” Elena yells from somewhere over my head. Her footsteps are hurried as she runs down the steps and drops beside me.</p><p>“He’s ok, he didn’t get him,”Jeremy says for me.</p><p>Elena’s hands are running all over my face and through my hair. “Oh my God, oh my God-”</p><p>“I’m alright, I promise,” I say, catching one of her hands against my cheek and holding it there. “He got me pretty good on the back of the noggin, but I’m fine. No bites.” I open my eyes again to see her hanging over me, tears streaming down her cheeks. I raise myself into a sitting position and the dizziness starts catching up with me. Lightly, I graze my fingers over the small lump on the back of my head and wince. “Where’s Stef? She didn’t see any of that, right?”</p><p>“She’s fine, Meg’s with her. I took her upstairs when I heard-” Her eyes start welling up and she puts a hand over the side of my neck, probably right about where I would have been bitten if not for Superboy. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come help you. You could’ve died. I almost just let you die. I didn’t know-” her breathing hitches and she scans over Todd’s lifeless form.</p><p>“Hey, hey, hey. Stefanie is always the priority.” I give the hand that’s still on my cheek a light press to grab her attention back. “You did exactly what you should’ve. Protect the package at all costs.” I don’t know if that helps her at all, but I feel better having said it out loud. “So… Who’s Meg?”</p><p>“Jeremy’s friend. He sent her in to make sure we were ok,” she answers, her fingers back to gently checking me over. They flit around to the back of my head and I flinch again when she feels the bump for herself. “You go inside and lay down. Jer and I will take care of…” She tapers off, eyes falling back to the body laying in our driveway.</p><p>Jeremy keeps walking by us in and out of the house with loads of bags in his arms, packing up the car like the most efficient of bellhops. “Whatever you need,” he chips in, sliding a milk crate full of stakes into the trunk.</p><p>“No, I’ll take him. I should be the one to do it.”</p><p>“Why… why is he not desiccating? Isn’t he…”</p><p>“He, uh… He was in transition. He was still human for the most part.”</p><p>I can see the wheels turning in her head, trying to figure out what the master plan could’ve been here. Someone turned him and sent him here, she has to have figured that out. But her sorrowful look tells me she’s having trouble focusing on her thoughts as fresh tears spill over. I wipe them off her cheekbones with my thumb.</p><p>“I know.” I rub across her cheek one more time for good measure. “I’m gonna take care of Todd before someone sees something. You should get back to Stef,” I suggest.</p><p>“He was <em> your </em> employee, but he was <em> our </em> friend, Damon. I’m coming with you.”</p><p>I sigh. “Fine.” I could honestly probably use the help anyway, not that I really want to admit that. “Let’s get this over with.”</p><p>* * * * * * * *</p><p>The last two hours of my life have simultaneously flown by and felt like they’ve dragged on for years. It’s been awhile since I’ve had to not only move a body, but also scout a disposal location and dig a shallow grave for said body. Elena and I drove a little ways out of town and found an overgrown road into the woods. We followed it as far as we could in her car, passing by an abandoned looking cabin and endless coniferous trees until we found the end of the path. We carried Todd’s tarp-wrapped body until we couldn’t see beyond the foliage and silently started digging. It’s not likely that anyone will find him out here, not even very likely anyone will care enough to look for him after I send out a text from his phone saying he’s getting the new start he’s always wanted. It hurts to think that the few remaining people that love and look out for him will be happy that he’s finally getting to be the person he wants to be, when in reality, his story’s over. It takes me back to Vicki Donovan and how the guilt of her early death built up so slowly over time. It all just fucking sucks. Neither of them deserved what I brought into their lives. <em> I </em> just fucking suck.</p><p>Elena and I said a few words over the leaf covered pile of dirt. Whispered thank yous and sorries and a healthy pour of tequila that I managed to remember to bring. Don’t have to worry about sobriety anymore, pal. Party it up wherever you are.</p><p>Elena tucked herself under my arm and leaned her head into my chest. “Do you think he’s at peace?” She whispered, the denseness of the trees around us nearly swallowing her quiet words.</p><p>“Absolutely,” I affirmed. I took a swig from the bottle and cringed at the taste of it burning its way down my throat. “He was a good kid.”</p><p>She hummed in agreement and said nothing more on the subject.</p><p>Now, pulling back into the driveway, it’s entirely too close to sunset. We have to leave soon to make sure that we aren’t followed by anyone. Thankfully, it looks like Jeremy and Meg finished packing up their massive black SUV with our stuff as well as moved Todd’s car into the garage like I asked them to. We’ll deal with that when we get home, whenever that may be. I’ve never been so grateful for the way our driveway curves up and around the back of our house, or how the tall trees and bushes surround our property for privacy; hopefully most of the neighbors were still at work and school when it went down, and the ones that weren’t couldn’t see or hear anything suspicious. Once all of this is over I want to be able to come back here without any additional problems. I don’t want to have to leave and start over somewhere else- or even worse, have Caroline come out here to compel away any pesky memories lurking about. Last time she stayed with us, she reorganized our entire kitchen and every closet in the house while Elena and I were at work. My underwear was color coded. It was awful.</p><p>Jeremy’s sitting on the driveway with Stefanie, watching her draw with chalk that he must have found in the garage. The way that he’s angled, I can see the stake he’s got tucked into his belt making a bulge in the side of his shirt, easily accessible in case anyone else were to show up. Love a babysitter who’s prepared for anything.</p><p>As I get out of the car, Stef’s face lights up and she jumps to her feet. I drop to one knee and catch her as she runs into my arms. “Hey, Bug,” I say, detecting a hint of her fruity shampoo in her hair. Her arms squeeze impossibly tight around my neck as I lift her and reposition her to my hip. Her cheeks are rosy and eyes bright. She’s ok. She’s really ok. I breathe out a sigh of relief. No traumatic childhood memories for today, then.</p><p>“Daddy! Uncle Jeremy drew me a cat and then I put wings on it and then it flew up high, high, high in the sky and then-” Her arms assisted her story telling, whipping up and around for emphasis.</p><p>I listen to her barely coherent run on sentence of a tale, answering with affirmations and encouragements to continue in amazement. While she talks, I walk her to the Tahoe and open the door. Her carseat is buckled securely into the middle seat, and I lean over to strap her in. “Sounds like you and Uncle Jer had a lot of fun,” I say when she finishes, somehow ending up on the subject of different kinds of jellyfish. I click the last clip and tug at the belts to make sure they aren’t too tight.</p><p>“Yeah! And Uncle Jeremy’s friend Meg had a juicebox for me!”</p><p>“Lucky kid.” I’d bet on it being vervain spiked juice. “Did Mama tell you all about the trip we’re going on?”</p><p>“We’re going to visit Auntie Caroline!” She claps her hands excitedly and kicks her feet. I’m sure Elena told her that we’re seeing <em> everyone </em>, even some people she hasn’t met before, but of course she only latches on to the part about Blondie.</p><p>“Right. We’ve gotta get there as soon as we can, but it’s far, <em> far </em> away, so we’re going to be in the car for a <em> loooong </em> time.” I cross my eyes while emphasizing the word long to make her laugh. At least someone thinks I’m funny. “You ready for an adventure, little gremlin?”</p><p>“Yes!” Oh, to be young and not know how terrible everything is all the fucking time. </p><p>Jeremy comes back outside and hops in the driver’s seat. “We’re ready whenever you guys are,” he says, turning in his seat to face me.</p><p>“Gotcha. Gonna do a quick sweep of the house and we’re good.” I stick my tongue out at Stefanie before shutting the door. “And thanks, by the way. I guess I owe you sometime.”</p><p>“For taking the time to be your armed chauffeur across the continental US? Or for saving your life?”</p><p>I smirk and give him a clap on the shoulder. “Take your pick, Jer Bear, because I certainly will not pay you back for both.” He rolls his eyes before slamming his door closed.</p><p>Jeremy’s <em> friend </em> wasn’t far behind him when he came outside. She stands with her hand on the handle to the car door, giving me a solid once over from the other side of the SUV. She looks way more vampire huntery than Jeremy does, decked out in a black tank top and dark jeans with thick soled combat boots. Very Buffy chic. “So you’re Damon Salvatore.”</p><p>“So I’ve been told. And you’re Meg of the juicebox fame.”</p><p>“Among other things,” she volleys back, squinting at me with intensity. Yikes. Something tells me she knows more about me than just what she’s heard from Jeremy. Or maybe Jeremy didn’t hold back while talking about his dear brother-in-law. Neither scenario would surprise me very much.</p><p>“Thanks to you, too, for taking care of my kid while I was… Otherwise preoccupied.”</p><p>She only nods in response. The next 40 hours are going to be a blast.</p><p>I shrug at her and head to the door just as Elena steps outside. She’s got two bags over one arm, a bigger bag over the opposite shoulder, and Andy Panda and a bag of frozen peas gripped haphazardly in one hand. She’s fumbling with her keys in the other. I don’t even know how she managed to collect so much shit in the five minutes that she was inside; she’s just remarkable that way. I hop up the steps and slide the bag off her shoulder, grabbing the bear and peas out of her hand in the midst of the transfer. “Snack for the road?” I ask, holding up the peas.</p><p>Now that she’s freed up, she smoothly locks the door and turns to me. “For your head.”</p><p>I mime smacking my forehead and roll my eyes. “I suppose that would make some sense.” The back of my head is suddenly throbbing as if it just remembered it had met the business end of a deadly weapon earlier this afternoon. I press the bag to the lump and try to act like it doesn’t bother me either way. It does feel good, though. Elena turns to head to the car, but I grab her arm. I need a minute to be serious. “Hey. Check in time. You ok?”</p><p>She purses her lips. “I’ll feel better when we’re moving. I can’t really process it all right now, it’s just… It’s a lot. Between someone being after you, going back to Mystic Falls…” She shakes her head slightly. “And now Todd? I can’t wrap my head around it yet.”</p><p>“That’s ok,” I say, giving her arm a light squeeze. “I’ll be here when you do.”</p><p>She smiles at me, but it’s not my favorite Elena smile. It’s the “hide it all away so people don’t worry about me” smile. Too late. I’m always worried. I lean in to give her a quick peck, but right as we’re about to connect, Jeremy honks the horn. I turn to the car and emphatically mouth “asshole” at him before turning around and kissing her anyways. We’re already this late, might as well take one minute to remind Elena that we’re the hottest thing since Cathy and Heathcliff. I get so lost in it that I even forget to flip Jeremy off.</p><p>* * * * * * * *</p><p>The ride is honestly not as horrible as I thought it was going to be. Jeremy actually <em> is </em> a bit of a leadfoot it turns out, so we’re making pretty good time considering all the rush hour traffic we have to take back roads to avoid. He and Meg are mostly keeping to themselves, whispering over the center console, determining routes and rest stops it sounds like. But there’s definitely something deeper going on under the surface that he has conveniently yet to mention.</p><p>Most of our time is spent entertaining the kid- she’s the weakest link in this convoy, and if we can keep her happy and comfortable until she passes out, we’ll be able to make it farther tonight. Elena’s reading to her now and she seems totally enthralled for the time being.</p><p>All of the adrenaline in my system has definitely run its course by this point, and the combination of the light vibrations from the car and my girl’s soft, soothing voice is lulling me into a trance. I put my arm over the back of Stefanie’s carseat, letting my fingertips tickle against Elena’s shoulder. She pauses reading to look up at me.</p><p>“You good?” She mouths.</p><p>I close my eyes and nod. I just feel better when I can touch her, or some sappy shit like that. “Keep reading.” I keep skimming up and down from her clavicle to the edge of her shoulder.</p><p>She continues on with the fairy tale, changing her voice up for each of the characters and inflecting all the right ways at all the right times. She was born to be a mother. A <em> great </em> mother, at that. And I was able to give that to her. After years of trying to convince myself that I could never be the right kind of man for her, even that I didn’t want to be, I got there. I really got to give her everything she ever wanted, and honestly, that’s all <em> I’ve </em> ever wanted since meeting her on that dark road just outside the woods eons ago.</p><p>When I open my eyes to look at her again, she’s not there. And as my awareness of my new surroundings grows, her voice fades off into nothingness in the dark. I blink a few times but it doesn’t change anything. I’m not in the car anymore. I’m in Mystic Falls, my arm extended to the side, fingertips touching nothing but thin, empty air. Actually, I’m not just in Mystic Falls- more specifically, I’m on that exact road where Elena and I first met. I’m dreaming. And I <em> know </em> that I’m dreaming. Well, that’s new.</p><p>“Elena?” I yell out, but no one’s there. I can only hear crickets chirping off in the distance and the faint buzzing of the streetlights above my head. I’m all alone.</p><p>This is so different from the other dreams I’ve been having, which I can now remember in vivid detail. In those, there was some kind of guiding force, I was doing something, going somewhere; I felt like I had a <em> purpose </em>. But now, I’m just standing alone on an empty street with no mysterious dream energy telling me what the hell I’m supposed to be doing. So I just start walking and hope for the best.</p><p>It’s funny that Wickery Bridge has played such an important role in all of our lives, yet I somehow totally forgot how close it is to where it all started. I turn the corner after what feels like a few minutes, but could have been hours or seconds depending on how time works here, and there it was, in all of its failing-to-kill-Elena glory. Someone should just tear the piece of shit down and entirely rebuild it. Maybe something modern. Big bumpers all along the edges.</p><p>I only pause to consider my options for a moment. Keep going this way, which for all I know is a super cursed way, or turn around and try somewhere else. I don’t feel a cosmic pull in either direction and I figure dream-me doesn’t really have anything to lose, so I stroll onward. I get to the halfway point and look over the edge. Just water, same as always. Nothing even remotely dreamy about it.</p><p>“Ok,” I shout to nobody. “I don’t know what’s supposed to happen here, so I’d appreciate it if either someone could fill me in or let me wake up.” Beat. Nothing. “At least imagine me up a glass of bourbon if I have to stay!” I hold out my hand as if to grab a cup, but alas, I’m ignored by my own subconscious. Figures.</p><p>I look down and see a flat-ish rock next to my boot. It’s not the most ideal shape, but I guess it’ll do. I grab it from the ground and weigh it in my hand. It just feels so real, all heavy and textured and stuff. Is this how all dreams feel when you’re in them? I angle my wrist and give it a solid whip, nearly clearing it down to the first bend in the river before it touches the surface and skips once off into the bank. Right. Forgot I was a vamp with all the fixins here. I hunt around my feet until I find another suitable rock. I let this one gently glide from my grip rather than give it a real toss. It jumps on the water once, twice, three times before <em> plopp </em> ing down to the depths. I’m just about to bend over to find another stone when I hear that someone’s beat me to it. I hear three <em> plunks </em> before I can look up and see the rock skidding over the river. It makes one more ripple as it sinks into the water. I turn quickly, but no one’s on the bridge with me, I’m still alone. The throw <em> had </em> to have come from this direction. Spooky.</p><p>“Hello?” I wish my voice would echo at the very least, but it’s so deafeningly quiet now. Even the crickets are gone. I take a step backward, trying to get a better view of the surrounding area. I tread on something small, but it’s too angular and pointed to just be a stone. I lift my foot, surprised to find Stefan’s daylight ring among the roadside debris. “Huh,” I muse aloud. I pick it up and turn it over in my hands. It looks nearly identical to the one I used to wear, save for the large S emblazoned on the stone where a D would have been on mine. I run my fingers over the familiar edges, watching the yellow glow of the distant streetlight gleam off of the deep blue stone.</p><p>At the fringe of my peripheral, I see something coming towards me. A person, or maybe just a shadow. Before I can look all the way up to see what it is, I’m being pushed backwards, thrown over the guardrail and into the cold, dark water of Mystic Falls River, still clutching the ring in my fist.</p><p>I jolt upright, the seatbelt jerking taut at my thrust forward. My frantic breathing slows when I realize that I’m in the Tahoe, arm still slung over Stefanie’s seat. It’s dark in the car now, sun definitely long gone and the kid is comatose, peacefully wrapped in a blanket with her head resting against the side of her seat. It’s hard to see Elena’s face clearly, but I can tell she’s concerned about my sudden awakening. Her hand reaches for mine, and a shock of tingling spreads up my entire arm. It’s asleep from being in such an awkward position for what must have been a long period. “What time is it?” I whisper.</p><p>Jeremy, now on the passenger side, answers. “A little past one Portland time, but it’s midnight here. We’re past Boise now.”</p><p>The tingling in my hand is starting to dissipate now that I’ve shifted it around some and I can feel Elena’s fingers tightening in mine. “You ok?” She asks.</p><p>“Yeah. Just a weird dream,” I admit. I try to play it off as nothing, but weird dreams are officially a red flag now. I can just barely see Elena’s eyes narrow at me suspiciously.</p><p>There’s hardly a lull in the conversation before Meg pipes up. “Are you awake enough to answer some questions?”</p><p>I almost forgot that she was here. I guess I can play along, it’ll fill the time if nothing else. “Sure. Shoot.” I rub at my cheek with my free hand to get the blood flowing and hopefully energize me a little.</p><p>“Jeremy’s told me all about the cure. Sounds way too good to be true.”</p><p>I wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t say anything else. “That’s… Not a question. But Elena and I are living proof that it’s not too good to be true. Emphasis on <em> living </em>.”</p><p>“I just mean that I’ve seen a lot of shit. Everything magical has some kind of weird loophole to it. Based on what I’ve heard, I know you guys have seen that, too.” She takes her eyes off of the dark stretch of highway in front of us to glance at me in the rearview mirror.</p><p>“Jeez Jeremy, have you been giving up <em> all </em> of our stories?”</p><p>Elena gives my hand a warning squeeze. “It <em> is </em> kind of too good to be true. But I’m choosing to ignore that and just… live.”</p><p>Whoa, whoa, whoa. What? “You think there’s some sort of loophole that we don’t know about yet?” I ask her.</p><p>“I mean, we don’t know. Why wouldn’t there be?” Her thumb traces along the edge of my palm. “But I don’t plan on ever finding out.”</p><p>“But you’re like… Actually cured of it?” Meg cuts back in. “Like, everything about being a vampire is gone? Poof?”</p><p>“All of it,” Elena responds. “I mean, what it <em> actually </em> does is cure the immortality. Without the immortality, we don’t need blood to keep the magic going. No blood, no predatory instincts. No shutting off humanity to cope with those instincts. It’s a domino effect.”</p><p>“But <em> you </em> weren’t a vamp for very long. What about you?” Her eyes shift to me again. “All those instincts just go away after more than a century, Salvatore?”</p><p>“Yeah. It’s all gone.” I wave a hand mystically in front of my face. “Poof.”</p><p>“Well,” she continues. “Do you miss it?”</p><p>“No,” Elena’s response is quick and resolute. She knows exactly who she is.</p><p>My hesitation is just as strong as her answer. No, I don’t miss it. But do I miss the way I used to feel after a crazy night, a hearty feed, a good fight? Maybe also no, but maybe… Maybe something. I was someone for 25 years, and then I became someone else for 150-something years. Who the fuck am I now? “No.” But I took too long. Elena’s hand falls from my grasp.</p><p>Nothing but a small, “hm,” from the front seat.</p><p>It’s gonna be a long drive.</p><p>* * * * * * * *</p><p>It’s still pretty early in the day when Meg announces she’s had it. “I’m hungry for real food and need some real sleep. There’s a diner at the next exit and we’re finding a motel nearby.”</p><p>“Your girlfriend’s cranky when you haven’t fed her, Gilbert.”</p><p>She flashes a pointed look at me in the mirror, but Jeremy’s the one that speaks up. “We can drop you on the side of the road whenever you want, Damon. Nice day for a walk.”</p><p>“Where are we?” The ride has been punctuated with this question from Stef once every fifteen minutes or so since a truck blaring its horn woke her up in the wee hours of the morning. I don’t even think the fucker was trying to alert anyone of anything, just wanted to make our lives a little bit harder today. It may be partially contributing to the reasons Meg wants to stop based on the way her knuckles are turning white on the steering wheel.</p><p>“The Democratic Republic of the Congo,” I answer her confidently while watching a whole lot of nothing out the window.</p><p>“It’s pretty there,” she says, kicking her feet against her carseat in an unsteady rhythm.</p><p>“Oh, thank God,” Meg blurts out upon seeing that the diner she had located shared a parking lot with a seedy looking motel. Perfect for nefarious activities, such as, but not limited to, drug deals, murder, and trying to get the tv to play Bubble Guppies for your preschool aged kid.</p><p>“We’re just going to eat in the motel,” Elena asserts for both of us.</p><p>I would have really liked a heaping helping of whatever greasy junk the diner could supply me with, but I’ll bet she wants to try and get Stefanie fed quickly so she can go back to sleep. I also have a sneaking suspicion she wants to talk to me privately about a lot of things I don’t know if I have the capacity to handle right now. “Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches sound pretty good,” I agree. I don’t think Elena’s shut her eyes once since we buckled in, so with any luck, she’ll just conk out when Stefanie does. Crossing my fingers.</p><p>* * * * * * * *</p><p>But of course, it all went too easily. We had a room booked in less than five minutes, ate PB&amp;J’s off paper plates while sitting on the floor, and watched as Stef’s eyes started to drift closed with half a celery stick in her mouth. Elena had scooped her up and gotten her comfortable and snuggled into the center of one of the queen beds in about a half second flat. Done. Mission accomplished.</p><p>And now she’s heading into the bathroom, crooking a finger at me to indicate that I should follow. Before I do, I rummage through the bag I had brought in from the car until I find what I’m looking for. The bottle is a lot sloshier than I’d like it to be, only about half full, but I shouldn’t have too much anyway. We’re only here for a little while, and then it’s our turn to switch off driving the rest of the way to Virginia.</p><p>I slip silently past her into the tiny bathroom and she clicks the door closed behind me. “Why do motels always have bathtubs?” I wonder aloud, gesturing to the small tub in question. “It’s like they’re asking for someone to steal kidneys and dump some half dead sap on ice here.” I take a seat on the edge, sliding myself in until my back is leaning against the opposite side. Once fully reclined sideways in the tub with my legs hanging off the rim, I pull the top off of my bottle and take a swig. “Ok. I’m ready,” I say, holding it out to Elena. She shakes her head, so I take another sip for myself.</p><p>“I don’t really know where to start.”</p><p>“Just pick somewhere. The sooner we start, the sooner we can have some weird sex in the black market kidney tub.” I shrug suggestively, but she doesn’t laugh. Which is fine, since I was really only halfway joking.</p><p>She sits herself down on the closed toilet lid, biting her lip. “It’s not too late,” she says quietly. “We can change the plan and go somewhere else.”</p><p>I sigh and rub my free hand over my eyes. I figured this was where we were going to kick it off. “Lena, I trust so few people in the world. Bonnie Bennett is at the absolute top of that list. We’re going wherever she is and she’s heading to Mystic Falls.”</p><p>“She doesn’t have to go to Mystic Falls either, though! We can head to Denver and stay with the Andersons. We’re not that far from there now, and we can pay to fly her out. Honestly, wouldn’t that be better? Isn’t whoever’s tracking you going to check Mystic Falls first when they see we’re gone?”</p><p>“Yeah, probably, but you know it’s not just Bonnie. It’s Ric, Caroline, Donovan… Even the little magic suckers. The boarding house is packed to the brim with weapons and monster babies. What do the Andersons have besides no taste?” I’ve only met the Andersons, Elena’s last surviving family besides Jeremy, once. They came to visit for a long weekend one summer- emphasis on <em> long- </em> and I shudder at the thought of ever having to see them again.</p><p>“But-”</p><p>“But nothing. Jeremy wouldn’t take us there if he didn’t think it was the best place for us too.” I take another drink. “But honestly, it’s not really about us anymore,” I say, pointing to her and then myself with the mouth of the bottle. “And I’m not putting my daughter’s life in the hands of a guy that wears white New Balances and leaves barbeques early to make sure he catches <em> Jeopardy </em>.”</p><p>“Ric watches <em> Jeopardy </em>,” she reminds me, almost playfully. She still doesn’t want to go to Mystic Falls, I can tell, but at least she isn’t angry about it. She knows it’s the right thing to do and just wants me to keep talking her into it. I’ll do it for as long and as often as she needs me to.</p><p>“Ric likes to watch <em> Jeopardy </em> after we get supremely fucked up. Huge difference. He’s fun.”</p><p>She nods and looks to the side, still very much lost in her own head. It sucks, but she’ll be ok. “You really shouldn’t be drinking. We can’t be sure you didn’t get a concussion yesterday without a CT scan,” she says after a minute.</p><p>“Oh, come on. It was a love tap at best, I’m <em> fine </em>,” I groan.</p><p>“Can you at least let me look at it again?”</p><p>I hold up a finger. “Only if I get to choose the next discussion topic.”</p><p>“Fair deal.”</p><p>“Alright, then. Please, step into my office, Dr. Salvatore.” I reach over to put the bottle on the floor next to a very dingy looking bath mat before spinning myself on the porcelain until my legs are hanging over the back end of the basin. Elena moves to sit on the edge of the tub to look at my head. Her fingers are so gentle, as always, combing through my hair and lightly pressing different spots on my cranium. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it did yesterday, and the frozen peas definitely helped a lot with the swelling. “So, were you just gonna let me live in a fairy tale while you were fretting away over some mystery loophole with the cure?”</p><p>I think she’s satisfied with her examination and is just idly playing with the hair on the back of my head now. I don’t mind. “I haven’t been <em> fretting</em>,” she objects, grazing along the top of my neck and sending chills all the way down my spine. “Just… Aware that it’s always possible.”</p><p>“Does that scare you?”</p><p>“The only thing that really scares me is the thought of something happening to you or Stefanie.”</p><p>“So… It does then.” It’s not a question.</p><p>She doesn’t respond. That’s an answer.</p><p>I pull my feet into the bath and push until my back is against the front edge of the tub. In the same motion I grab Elena by the waist and pull her in on top of me. She lets out a little squeak and waves her arms to stop herself from hitting her head on the wall- as if I would let that happen. She falls half between my legs, half in my lap, totally encompassed by my embrace. She’s tense for a second from the shock of the fall, but laughs and relaxes into me quickly, her head landing on my chest. I kiss lightly behind her ear and let a hand rub against her hip. “Baby, you got nothin’ to worry about.” My lips trace down her jaw and back up. “You’ve got enough running through your head, you don’t need this stress too. The cure works. It’s working and it’ll continue working right up until the end of my long, happy, human life.”</p><p>She hums and I feel her sinking more into me, comfortable and at ease for the time being. “I usually don’t let it bother me. I actually don’t think I’ve thought about it at all in the past year or two. Everything’s just been so… Normal. I was really happy.” I try to ignore her use of <em> was </em> and pepper a few more kisses into her hair. “This whole thing has just brought up a lot of repressed thoughts.”</p><p>The hand that’s been absentmindedly rubbing her hip skims a little higher and gets under her shirt. Her skin is as warm and soft as it always is. “Hmmm,” I hum in agreement.</p><p>“I haven’t even asked. Are <em> you </em> ok about going back?”</p><p>“Yeah, just peachy.” I draw a small circle just between her hipbone and waist.</p><p>“I’m serious.” She sits up and turns to look me in the eye, giving me her <em>I’m</em> <em>serious</em> face.</p><p>“I know you are. So am I. When you’ve dealt with 150 years of death- starting with your own, might I add- you just get used to being reminded of all the dead people you knew once.”</p><p>“I know that,” she insists. “I’ve had to deal with a lot of death, too, but this one was different, especially for you. This was Stefan.” </p><p>The pang in my chest is always a little worse when she’s the one to say his name out loud. She says it like it’s a curse word, like it shouldn’t be coming from her mouth so it sneaks out of her lips like a horrible, damning secret. It hurts. It hurts so goddamn much that sometimes my eyes unfocus and my stomach ties itself into knots. “I’m ok, really. I miss him, but we’ve survived worse.”</p><p>She curls back up into me and I go back to drawing small shapes on her once she’s settled. “I don’t know if that’s true.”</p><p>The silence following her sentence is crushing, but I’m afraid of what I’ll say if I open my mouth, so I don’t. I draw two dots and a curved line into her skin. Happy thoughts only.</p><p>“About what Meg asked…” She starts off hesitantly. Good, let’s jump right on into talking about more of my feelings that I don’t want to dwell on. “Do you?”</p><p>“Do I think Meg and Jeremy are having a secret vampire hunter affair? Yes.”</p><p>She sighs exasperatedly. “Do you miss being a vampire?”</p><p>I chew on the inside of my lip while I think of how to word it. It’s something I’ve tried to avoid thinking about, much less discuss with another person, even <em> much </em> less with her. This is my life now, I’m human, with a wife and a kid and a mortgage, no brother, not a vampire. What’s the point of thinking back on what I don’t have anymore if it’s gone forever? Elena and I had never really talked about it, even right after I transitioned back. By the time Bonnie had woken her up, I had already spent three <em> excruciatingly </em> long months as a human and it was old news. We had a lot of other kinds of catching up to do. Plus, life had been so horrifically boring without her, especially while relearning how to be a normal person again. I didn’t want to relive it by telling her every detail about every thought I had during that timeframe. The important thing was that everything worked out and we could live the life we’d dreamt of before all hell broke loose. The truth is, I don’t really miss who I was. Having a tense conversation like this would have sent me over the edge before. We’d fight, probably break up, I’d run off and do something destructive. I’m definitely still impulsive and say things before I think about them, but it’s a little easier to control now and I can handle the backlash more rationally. But… There <em> is </em> a lot I miss. The speed. The strength. The <em> power </em>. But she doesn’t need to know that.</p><p>I’ve formulated my response. “No.” There. Good answer.</p><p>I don’t think she believes me, but she doesn’t harp. She instead toys with the edge of my sleeve where it’s pushed up to my elbow.</p><p>“When’s the last time we took a bath together?” I ask innocently to change the subject.</p><p>“Ha,” she lets out humorlessly. “Stefanie was probably still in the crib.”</p><p>“That’s shameful. We’re getting boring in our old age.”</p><p>“I know that at one point you thought you were going to be 25 forever, but in the grand scheme of things, 33 is <em> not </em> old.” My face is buried in her hair again so I can’t see her face, but I can hear the smile in her voice.</p><p>“I’m over the hill. Might as well take me out back and Old Yeller me.”</p><p>She bats at my arm. “Oh come on,” she rebukes. “If anything, I’d cut out your kidney and make some money.” She starts to sit up and turns to me again. “Did you happen to see if the ice machine was on this floor, or...?” I dig my fingers into her side and she clamps a hand down over mine, falling into a fit of giggles while she tries to get me to stop tickling her.</p><p>“What? What is it?” I tease, bracketing her body with my legs so she has a harder time getting out of my grasp. “What’s wrong, Lena?” She’s desperately trying to keep her uncontrollable laughter quiet, but I’m completely unrelenting because I’m a dick like that.</p><p>“Damon!” She gasps out between breaths. She pries her hands under mine and pushes me off, twirling on top of me to get in a less vulnerable position until she’s on her knees between my legs. Her hands are on my chest to keep herself steady and our faces are so, <em> so </em> close together in the cramped space. Her breaths are still choppy, and at some point, mine had subconsciously started matching hers. The vibe in the sanctuary of our tub has shifted dramatically in the fraction of a second and I <em> cannot </em> stop staring at her lips. “I don’t like being tickled,” she whispers, her eyes glancing down to my mouth.</p><p>“I know,” I admit quietly.</p><p>She’s leaning in and my heart is racing in my ribcage. Even after hours and hours in the car, messed up hair, unshowered, no sleep, and endless stress, she’s still the image of absolute perfection. I love her so much that fucking her in this gross motel bathtub would be worth whatever bizarre amalgam of STDs we could potentially catch. I’m just angling my face to align with hers when there’s a tiny knock at the door. “Mama?”</p><p>“Oh my God,” I groan quietly enough that hopefully Stefanie can’t hear. Her timing is <em> nothing </em> if not impeccable.</p><p>Elena laughs and puts her face on my chest. “This is parenthood,” she giggles out. She kisses me on the side of my neck before pushing on me to get herself out of the tub. “I’m coming, Steffie,” she calls.</p><p>I lean my head back to rest on the wall behind me while I calm myself down. I’m trying to picture what the next 24 hours or so are going to look like to get myself in a more decent, family friendly headspace. Hopefully Stef will get a little more sleep time, and maybe I’ll convince Elena to close her eyes for a minute, too. We’ll be on the road again in a few hours, most likely whenever Meg and Jeremy are ready to go.</p><p>I reach over the edge of the tub and grab the bottle by its neck, taking one more giant gulp before plugging it up again and setting it back down. Elena slips through the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts… and sense of dread. I can try and drown it in the booze and other distractions, but every mile we get closer to Mystic Falls, the less at ease I feel. I try to focus on the thought that I’ll be seeing Bonnie again soon. That only moderately calms me down. I really don’t want to go back there anymore than Elena does. I don’t know what worries me more- all of the ties this town has to Stefan and the effect that might have on me, on us, when we get there, or the sinking pit I have in my gut when I think about my most recent dream, still fresh in my mind.</p><p>Since waking up, Stefan’s daylight ring on the middle finger of my right hand feels like it’s gained ten pounds. I’ve kept it on since he died as a reminder that he’s always with me or some bullshit. A safety blanket. My personal Andy Panda. I twist it around on my finger and the lights glint on the polished silver the stone is set in. <em> Wherever you are, Brother, I could really use a hand. Some advice or something. </em> I know it’s not coming, but I wait for Stefan to respond anyway. He never does. Since, you know, he’s dead and all. I slip the ring from my finger, examining it closely. It’s looked the same since 1864, no sign of the usual wear and tear of regularly worn jewelry thanks to the magic that runs through it. I want it to have some kind of answers for me, maybe like a mystical new inscription or something, Harry Potter and that magic journal style. But there’s nothing. Just the same old ring. Why was it important enough to end up in my dream? <em> Are </em> my dreams even important, or are they just the result of some anxiety and not eating well since shit hit the fan?</p><p>“Damon,” Elena calls from the main room. “Stef wants you to read her a story.”</p><p>“Yeah, alright,” I say putting the stone back on my hand. A mystery for another time I guess. Daddy Duties come first. I get out of the tub and make my way to sit next to my girls on the bed.</p><p>Stefanie’s wide awake and hugging Andy close. She smiles at me, that big happy grin that reminds me so much of her mother’s. I want her to stay little forever, always small enough to be carried around on my hip and wanting to hear a bedtime story. It’s incomprehensible to me that she’s going to keep growing. “Which book, Daddy?”</p><p>Elena has a stack of them on the bed, the classic ones that she loves, but I’m not really in the mood for any of those right now. “How about a new story?” I ask.</p><p>“What’s it about?” She questions, eyes bright with curiosity in that way only a little kid’s can be.</p><p>I glance to Elena, for permission maybe, before answering. “I wanna tell you a story about your uncle. He was a superhero, you know.”</p><p>My wife’s eyes are worried at first, but I take her hand and send her an unspoken message. <em> It’s ok. Nothing bad. I need this right now. </em> The concern fades from her face and she gives a half smile and squeezes my hand.</p><p>“A real superhero?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Elena responds without breaking eye contact with me. “A real superhero.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I have about 60,000 words written for this story so far (most of it a garbled mess that still needs to be worked through and rethought out/rewritten/edited, but STILL) and that's absolutely CRAZY to me. I've always really enjoyed writing, but I have a lot of trouble with focusing on big projects like this. I can't even tell you how many times I've started NaNoWriMo and only made it 1000 words in. Thank you to everyone that's checked this story out, your encouragement is really helping me stay motivated throughout this wild adventure I've been having in my head.. I really hope you're liking what is essentially what I would've wanted season 9 to look like, and again, thank you so, so, SO much for checking it out!</p><p>And I know I'm probably very out of touch at this point, but I'm trying to weasel my way back into the fandom part of the internet. I know tumblr isn't what it used to be, but I just made a new account, so if you're still on there you can follow me at salvabore.tumblr.com! Also let me know where everyone hangs out nowadays to talk about tv shows that ended 3 years ago haha. Thanks again xoxoxo</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi my lovelies, long intro here. Sorry for the wait- life’s starting to come back at me fast and I’m trying to adjust to working again after being unemployed for 2.5 months. I’ve been filling time with a lot more reading than writing these days honestly, and so much of the time that I’ve been writing has been on later chapters because I’m awful and I’m sorry lol. This one was a bit of a struggle because I had so many bits and pieces that I LOVED that had to be connected, and the connections I came up with were rough and messy and had to be rewritten 6 or 7 times each. I was going to split it in two again, but I think it works ok as one really long chapter (and you’re super deserving of it for dealing with my slow nonsense. Thanks again for your patience!). Not sure what my uploading schedule is going to be moving forward, doing my best to get out what I can when I can and I’m really sorry if I got your hopes up early on with my posting of every 1-2 weeks. If it makes you feel better, I have no intention of abandoning this story, I’m having WAY too much fun in this world and have WAY too much planned- so no worries on that end of things! <br/>This is tbh probably the most anticipated chapter for anyone clicking on an explicit fanfiction, but definitely my most dreaded to post. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here………… Hope you like it but please forgive me if it’s awkward and clunky I DID MY BEST. As always, drop kudos and comments if you like it, tell me what you don’t think is working if you don’t. I’m trying to put out a story that I have fun writing that you can also have fun reading, so don’t be afraid to add constructive criticism to the party if you think it’s needed!<br/>Anyway, it’s absolutely canon that Damon thinks he’s super dominant and in charge but tbh Elena has him eating out of the palm of her hand<br/>It’s facts I don’t make the rules not sorry about it<br/>Thanks for reading ily let’s get on with it</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Where are we now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my God, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell me we’re close,” Meg groans from the backseat. After a lot of careful consideration, I’ve decided that I neither like nor trust Jeremy’s not so secret girlfriend. Partially because she doesn’t seem to like or trust me very much either, periodically asking me about my questionably moraled time as a vampire when little ears are asleep, and partially because she’s kind of being a dick to my kid right now and I’m not about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I crank up the radio, blasting whatever mystery Jimmy Buffett song had been playing as background noise and watch Meg cup her hands over her ears in annoyance in the rearview mirror. “I think we’re approaching Bermuda,” I call over the cacophony.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elena puts a hand over mine and turns the music back down. “Damon,” she scolds lightly before she turns in her seat. “We’re almost there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My girl, ever the peacemaker.” I grab her hand and pull it to my lips to give it a peck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ew,” Stef giggles from the backseat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, gross, right?” I let Elena entangle our fingers over the center console. It almost feels like a normal road trip for a second- until, of course, I see the sign above our heads indicating that we’re quickly approaching the exit for Mystic Falls. My stomach turns and lurches. It all feels so foreign and familiar at the same time. How many times have I driven down this same road? Hundreds? Thousands? It’s been nearly a decade, but I feel like I still recognize every tree off the shoulder. It’s fucking stressful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We’ve made some quick time, especially since Elena let me take the wheel. We haven’t had the need to stop for much more than a meal and a leg stretch since the motel break; Stef has been surprisingly ok hanging out in her carseat for hours at a time and we’ve been switching out drivers pretty steadily. I guess ultimately it was a better choice to have the two tagalongs with us, even if one of them probably would prefer to see me six feet under. I just have to keep telling myself that this is for the best, and the sooner we get back to the boarding house the better. Probably, anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you tell another Uncle Stefan story?” The kid quips up after a moment of silence. Elena’s fingers squeeze mine. Just because we’ve decided it’s time to open up a little more, doesn’t make it any easier on us to reminisce. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Another? We’ve told you three in the last hour!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve got one,” Jeremy surprises me by speaking up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright Little Gilbert, story away then. The floor’s yours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When I was a kid, I got into trouble sometimes,” he starts off, but Elena interrupts with a deliberately lead clearing of her throat. “Relaaax.” I can hear his eye roll from up here. He knows better than to give up all the details of all his teen delinquency to his four year old niece. He better also know to not deviate from the superhero format we’ve made for Stefan Stories; the unspoken compromise we’ve come to for now is that we can talk about magic in a fairy tale kind of way. Bad guys running rampant, good guys saving the world, and always, </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> boundless happy endings. Of course, that entails that we water down the gorier details so there’s absolutely no explicit mentions of vampires, murders, debauchery or blood sucking…. Just yet. “One time, I was trying to help Aunt Bonnie with something, but I just ended up causing more problems. A bad lady named Katherine was trapped in a cave, and she had a very important rock that we needed back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why was the rock important?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ah, jeez, too complicated. “It was called a moon stone. It made the moon come out,” I jut in before Jeremy has to overwork his little head. It’s too early to introduce the kid to werewolves. Simplify, simplify, simplify.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why was the lady bad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ah, jeez, even </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> complicated. “She wanted to make the moon go away </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stefanie let out a tiny gasp at such a horrific thought. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Forever</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Jeremy laughed at her shock. “We had to stop her. So I went to the cave all by myself-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Van Helsing to save the day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had to listen to yours all afternoon, let me get my chance!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s a Fan Hessing?” Stef asks, and I look in the rearview mirror to wiggle my eyebrows at her without an answer. She smiles at me and seems to forget that she asked anything at all. I’m going to miss that when she gets older and isn’t so easily distracted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You gotta cut to the chase anyway, Jer. 15 minutes out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I can feel Elena’s hand getting more and more tense in mine. She hates this. Hates the stories edging on reality, hates that we’re so close to the epicenter of all things horrific in her life. I run my thumb over her knuckles and try to send her telepathic messages-</span>
  <em>
    <span> it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Based on the steadily increasing vice grip she still has on me, I don’t think she hears it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. I get down there and I think I can handle it alone, but Katherine traps me down in the cave with her. Then Stefan and Bonnie come to try and rescue me-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His storytelling is nothing to write home about if I’m banned from spicing it up, so I tune him out. I know how it ends anyway- Jeremy fucks it up, Stefan jumps into the tomb to get him out, traps himself in there with the head she-bitch in charge. He doesn’t even do fun voices for all the characters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I turn my attention back to the road. We’re in that small town part of Virginia, so there isn’t really much to see besides trees and the occasional bridge. Not even many other cars- just one red truck with heavily tinted windows behind us. I don’t really think of myself as a particularly paranoid person, especially after knowing someone as unreasonably suspicious of others as Katherine was, but I’ve been keeping an eye on this guy for the past few miles. He’s been following us steadily for about an hour and a half, but it’s not like there are a ton of options around here. It wouldn’t be all that surprising if the only two cars on the road were heading to the same town since there’s not much else nearby. I still don’t have great vibes about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeremy’s wrapping up his boring little tale when I hit the Mystic Falls exit. Red truck isn’t far behind when it turns off as well. I give Elena’s hand a light squeeze before freeing my fingers from hers to get both hands back on the wheel. On top of the already palpable tension from the last three days of travel, I’m getting more nervous about our follower. “You guys hungry? Should we head to the Grill first?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a pause while everyone considers the stupidity of my statement. “I think we just want to get to the boarding house and figure it out from there,” Jeremy objects lightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh come on, old buddy, old pal, old brother-in-law of mine. Let’s grab a bite.” Playfully, I snap my teeth with a click.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m hating the thought of getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>out</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the car and then having to get back </span>
  <em>
    <span>into </span>
  </em>
  <span>the car.” Fucking Meg.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Donovan might be working, we should stop in for a hello at the very least.” To get to the boarding house from here, I should take the next right, so I whip a sudden left without flipping on the directionals. I pointedly glance into the rearview and watch the truck behind us cut the turn sharply, also without any signals. Hm. Hoping for the best obviously, but not a </span>
  <em>
    <span>great</span>
  </em>
  <span> sign.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Out of the corner of my eye, I see Elena catch my expression and look in the mirror too. She pulls her phone out of her pocket. “I’m texting him right now.” She’s getting me even though I’m trying to keep the situation lowkey for Stefanie’s sake, I know it. That’s my fucking girl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Matt hasn’t worked there since we were teenagers,” Jeremy says, a full step and a half behind us.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I keep my voice unbothered. “I’m gonna take Cypress and go the long way around. Maybe get back on the highway if I’m feeling up to it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s frantically tapping away on her phone. We’ve been in constant contact with everyone and they’ve been pretty quick on their replies up until this point, so here’s hoping the sheriff’s on his game. Realistically, I can only drive around in circles to passively try to lose this guy for so long before we start getting visibly anxious and Stef realizes something’s up. Damn us for bringing up such a precocious kid, I guess.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I barely slow when I make the turn onto Cypress, and under any other circumstance, seeing the lights from the cop car after that shithead move would have ruined my day. The truck behind me rolls to a stop on the side of the road, but I keep going at a constant speed. “Is that him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elena swivels around and puts her hand on the back of my seat to get a better view. “I think so.” Relief washes over me. We’re good for now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To the house? Or sightsee a little first?” Are we safe enough to get to the boarding house without being followed and ambushed the second we stop the car? Or should we pretend like nothing’s wrong and keep driving around town until we can get some kind of confirmation from old Andy Taylor that we’re good?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um…” She  hesitates and looks out the window, watching the houses she probably grew up having playdates in whizz by. The three in the backseat are all silent. I think Jeremy is the only one actually waiting for her answer with bated breath, the only one that gets how heavy this moment is for her, but the energy from all of them is definitely tense. Even Stef feels it, I think. “Maybe… Maybe go around the block some. Until we hear back from Matt.” God, she sounds awful, torn between the two evils. Given the opportunity, she’d probably just turn us around and take our chances in some random city, maybe head back to Denver. I just want to hold her and tell her it’s all going to be ok, but I don’t know if I’d even be telling her the truth. I had moved my hand back to the wheel to save her from the sweat collecting on my palm, but I reach back over and take her hand again anyway. That’s what partnership is all about, right? Sickness, health, sweaty palms, all that human stuff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where to, Miss Daisy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pauses to think again. “Let’s go down Maple. Show Stefanie where Mama grew up.” She’s trying to sound like it doesn’t matter, but I know her mannerisms well enough to feel the tentativeness in her tone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure?” Jeremy asks. He hears it, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s the right after this one,” she tells me, as if I hadn’t gone to her house hundreds of times before it had burnt down. As if I hadn’t driven by without stopping hundreds more after it had.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s quiet here. I slow considerably when I make the turn onto Elena’s old street, but stay on high alert just in case of any new signs of danger. From the outside, it seems as though this neighborhood holds none of the weight of the trauma it had once gone through. Kids are playing street hockey, middle aged men in cargo shorts are watering the grass, talking over their perfectly pristine white picket fences, and I think I can even catch a whiff of someone having a barbeque through one of the cracked windows. It’s a regular early spring day, maybe just a touch warmer than usual for the season, but other than that, it’s so boringly normal that I half expect Mr. Rogers to be jaunting down the sidewalk. It’s a bizarre feeling. Don’t they know all that’s happened here? All the loss? All the magic?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which one was Mama’s?” Stef asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Our house isn’t there anymore,” Jer says softly. “It burnt down a long time ago. It used to be right…” He trails off when the lot comes into view. Of course they rebuilt, and of course they wanted it to match the rest of the Stepford Wives vibe of the neighborhood, but did they really have to make it so similar to what the old Gilbert house used to look like? It’s a white two story home, with a big wrap around porch and a swinging bench off to the side. There are some definite differences, for sure, but if someone hadn’t been to Mystic Falls in 20 years, I don’t think they’d noticed anything was different. It’s like seeing a fucking ghost. I think the shutters are even the same color.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, wow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I turn back to the road, but I know without seeing them that everyone else’s eyes are locked on the estate until it’s out of view.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I keep my hand in Elena’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>* * * * * * * *</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It did’t take long for Donovan to get back to us. Elena only told me that he texted her and we’re good to go to the boarding house, probably saving the details for when we’re alone. Fair enough, I trust her. I wonder if Jeremy and Meg even caught on that we were as bothered as we were. Some fucking hunters, don’t even notice that we’re potentially being tailed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, looking at my own home isn’t as gut wrenchingly heartbreaking as seeing where the Gilbert house once had been. Maybe it’s just because it’s still standing. Maybe it’s something deeper. The memories? The- </span>
  <em>
    <span>gasp-</span>
  </em>
  <span> empathy I feel for my wife and her brother? Who knows. I try to not dwell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the driveway, there are only two other cars- one large van, I’m assuming for transporting little witchy school children for fieldtrips, and, oh God Ric, no, a dark green </span>
  <em>
    <span>minivan</span>
  </em>
  <span>. No SUV, no compact car. This is what he drives around town? An embarrassment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I let the car idle for a minute before I put it in park. I almost want to throw it in reverse and speed off to drive around a little longer, but Elena said it was fine, we’re fine, I trust her, we’re a team, etc., etc. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Bug, we’re finally here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This used to be Daddy’s house,” Elena says. “...And Uncle Stefan’s.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok, kid, let’s get you out of here. We’ll run around the yard a little! Get out that wild Gilbert energy!” Jeremy’s unclipping the straps in her carseat and practically yanks her out of the car. Meg doesn’t take long to get out either, both of them slamming the doors shut behind them and leaving Elena and I alone in the SUV.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This was the right choice, yeah?” She whispers to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, I guess it depends what Donovan had to say about our carpool buddy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She slips her phone from her pocket and passes it to me after unlocking it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you really that confident that I won’t scroll back far enough to find ancient sexts with your high school boyfriend?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighs deeply and shakes her head. “Just read it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I skim to his update. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lucky you caught me at the right time on my route. Pulled him over. He’s a local. I said I nabbed him for speeding and made some small talk. He said his wife’s been into gardening lately and some guy a few towns over was selling a bunch of supplies cheap that he went to pick up. I could see some of it in the truck bed. He was in direct sunlight with the window down and didn’t look like he had a daylight ring or anything. I wear vervain steeped gloves and shook his hand before I let him go. Definitely not a vamp if it makes you feel any better. Didn’t seem to be in any rush. Probably not following you guys, just a coincidence. I’m patrolling until later tonight, I’ll keep you updated if anything changes. Glad you’re back.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does this make </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> feel better?” I try to not sound incredulous, but honestly, I am a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, yeah. Matt seems pretty confident it was just a misunderstanding, plus he’s going to be keeping an eye out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That doesn’t mean much. Was this guy </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span> vervain? He could be a compelled human. Or maybe his wife’s the vamp and he’d do anything for her. Or maybe… I don’t know. Something else.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damon, if he had wanted to hurt us, he could’ve. I think we’re ok with him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I lean my head back and close my eyes. I didn’t realize how tired they had gotten from staring at the road for so long until they were shut. “Sure, maybe it’s not him that we have to worry about. But there are people out there that we </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to worry about. That’s why we came back. It was the right choice,” I reconfirm for her. “I’ll feel better when Bonnie’s here, but you know. Good enough for now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her fingers are at the shell of my ear, pushing my hair back gently. “I love you. I don’t think I’ve said it enough since all of this has started.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I smile. “Love you, too. No one else I’d rather have on my team.” She puts a hand on my cheek and I open my eyes to see her. She’s haggard looking and tired and her hair is sloppily tied up in a bun, a very rare form for the normally very put together woman. I’m sure I look much the same. “What do you say we start getting shit inside so we can eat and take a shower?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve never said anything sexier.” She gives me a quick smooch and hops out of the car. “Come on Steffie! We have some friends we want you to meet!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>* * * * * * * *</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stepping over the threshold feels like… A reset. It’s different than when I had come back in 1953, in 1994, in 2009. I’m different. I drop the three bags I had on my shoulders and look around the foyer area. It even smells the same. I’m still clutching Stef’s panda when Ric comes down the stairs. He stops on the landing when he sees us standing by the entrance way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow. It’s really you both, back in the boarding house,” he says, smile broadening on his face. Stef’s hiding herself behind Elena, not expecting that her mother is going to run off and literally leap into the arms of the stranger coming down the stairs. He spins her around in a tight embrace while she clutches around his neck. Stef comes beside me to hug my leg cautiously. While they laugh. “God, it’s so good to see you, Elena.” He looks to me next and shakes his head. “Damon.” There’s a lot behind those two syllables.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve missed you, buddy,” I reply simply. He comes in for a hug that lasts a lot longer than I think either of us expected it to. I want to say something clever and funny to ruin it, but I’ve got nothing. I don’t have many friends left, so I’ve got no choice but to be appreciative for the ones I’ve got or something like that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice panda,” he says very condescendingly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, this reunion’s been fun, but I can stay somewhere else if you’re gonna be a-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“His name’s Andy,” a small voice interrupts from behind me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, really?” Alaric asks, crouching down to get to her eye level.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. He’s a firefighter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s pretty cool. And you must be Stefanie. I’m Ric.” He holds out his hand, and Stef reaches out with the hand that doesn’t have a vice grip on my thigh to shake it. Wow, he’s really got this whole dad thing down. Took him long enough. “We met once before, but you were still in your mom’s belly.” Christ, has it really been that long since we’ve seen him in person? I do the math out in my head, but it still doesn’t sound true even though it must be. Caroline and Bonnie have been out a few more times than that, but it’s tough for him to travel for pleasure when he’s got a year round boarding school full of baby X-Men to run. I’ve missed him. I wonder where he keeps the booze. “I have some people I want you to meet,” he says, standing up slowly. “Hey, girls! They’re here!” He calls up the stairs. I hear two sets of footsteps pitter pattering above us, and then two girls, no, two</span>
  <em>
    <span> young women</span>
  </em>
  <span> come bounding down the stairs at us.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Geez, Ric,” I can’t help but say. “Your munchkins are a whole lot less munchkiny than I remember.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what happens when time goes by. They just turned 12 last month,” he says proudly, swiping a hand over the brunette’s head. She ducks away with him with an embarrassed protest. “This is Josie, and this is Lizzie. You both remember Damon and Elena, right? You were still pretty young when they moved to Oregon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They were both asleep for awhile,” the blonde, Lizzie, says, scrunching her eyebrows. “And Damon came to our house when we lived in Texas.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I nod, impressed. “Yeah, we were. And I did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alaric’s beaming with pride. Maybe I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to drink with him later. He’ll probably pull out old hand turkeys and report cards that I don’t care about. Only my kid’s accomplishments hold any weight in my mind, and if I’m drunk, I’ll be less inclined to be nice when I tell him that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My bug peeks out from behind me, eyeing the twins curiously. She steps out, fiddling with her fingers. “I’m Stefanie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stefan’s your uncle, so we’re step cousins!” Josie tells her excitedly. Both of them, actually, seem pretty hyped up about Stef. They don’t go to regular school, so meeting a new kid must be a pretty big deal even with such a big age difference.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stef looks confused. The family tree is complicated and I don’t blame her for not being able to wrap her head around it. “Um… Yeah.” The girls start questioning my daughter about her interests, likes, dislikes, school, and she seems to be warming up little by little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ric asks, “Jeremy and Meg?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We ran into a very incredibly minor setback, and he wanted to meet up with Donovan and talk strategy. Patrolling schedules and such.” I leave out that Meg was pretty pissed to get back into the driver’s side of the SUV. I had waved them off like a grandparent on the front step with a fat smirk on my face. Hope they’re having a good time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everything’s fine. They should be back pretty soon,” Elena adds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, I have a lot to catch up on with him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I nod before changing the subject. “So, where’s our little clan gonna set up shop?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, the girls have been really excited to have a playmate around, so they were hoping that Stefanie could sleep in their room. If that’s ok with you guys.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I throw my free arm around Elena’s shoulder. “Well, I’m fine with it, since I’m a cool dad and all, but you should ask her </span>
  <em>
    <span>smother</span>
  </em>
  <span> over here,” clicking my tongue and rolling my eyes in her direction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elena sighs and rests a hand on my chest, sliding it under my leather jacket. A subtle gesture of casual intimacy to onlookers, but she’s secretly digging a fingernail into my nipple as punishment. “Of course she can.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The girls don’t even waste a second. “C’mon, we have to show you the fort we built!” Josie shouts. Lizzie grabs Stef’s hand and half leads, half drags her to the stairs, my little bug laughing the whole way. Elena rubs gently on my chest as we watch her go, and we have that little psychic parent moment. The</span>
  <em>
    <span> how did our little girl get so big so fast?</span>
  </em>
  <span> moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once they’re out of sight, I turn my attention back to Ric. “You build us a fort too, or what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His scoffing has grown more professory in our absence. Tool. “No, but you’ll probably be most comfortable in your own room anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” I’m honestly a little surprised. “You didn’t take it over for yourself? With a master bath like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you kidding? With the amount of debauchery that has probably happened there over the years? It’s astounding that I didn’t board it up and </span>
  <em>
    <span>condemn</span>
  </em>
  <span> it,” he says through a smirk. “Let me hunt down a key for you guys.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where does everyone else stay?” I ask out of curiosity. “Assuming Donovan’s in the cupboard under the stairs, but is Blondie still staying here? And Bon?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ric’s digging through a drawer in a small table at the bottom of the stairs. “Matt’s still renting on Sycamore Street, but he’s been looking for a house. He’s got a new girlfriend who’s keeping him pretty busy when he’s not working. Caroline’s actually been at her childhood home for a few months. She’s still here pretty much every day, but it got to be… Too much for her to be living here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I feel Elena tense up under my arm. I’m a little sorry I asked, but also glad she heard it while I was here so I could silently comfort her, rubbing up and down her arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ric’s quiet for too long after that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And… Bonnie?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bonnie’s been staying here… When she’s here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Huh. What an odd thing to hear, considering the fact that between myself and Elena, we hear from Bonnie at least every other day, but her recent trek to Salem was the only trip we’ve heard about. “Where’s our little witch been off to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s not always very forthcoming with all of the information,” Alaric says, running a hand up over the back of his head. “But you know, here, there-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could just ask her yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elena and I turn as one unit, still connected by my arm around her. The one and only Bonnie Bennett is standing in the still open doorway, and my stomach drops and heart lurches all at once. She’s really here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bonnie!” Elena shrieks, running from my embrace and directly into her best friend’s. I wait patiently for my turn where I stand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cool bear,” Bonnie smiles at me over Elena’s back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“His name’s Andy. This week he’s a fireman, I’ve heard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How nice for him.” Bonnie pushes Elena back by her shoulders and holds her at arms’ length. She just stares at her, taking her in. She told me once a few years ago that she sometimes falls into states of dissociation since the breaking of Kai’s spell. During her episodes, she convinces herself that it couldn’t have possibly happened because it was such an unattainable feat to wake my Sleeping Beauty. It’s terrifying for her- anywhere from minutes to hours lost trying to regain hold of the reality around her. She says the experiences have gotten shorter and farther apart as time has gone on, but she’ll still sometimes call just to hear me talk about the weather in Portland or what I ate for lunch to bring her back to herself. Elena doesn’t know and she asked me to make sure she wouldn’t find out. I, good friend that I am, have dutifully kept my promise for her. I’m assuming she’s taking a mental note of this moment, her friend physically in front of her, alive and happy, and she’ll use it to ground herself at a future time. “You look amazing as ever, Elena.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her gaze shifts back to me, and Elena steps to the side so that I can take her place. Bonnie squeezes my middle tightly and I rest my chin on the top of her head. Two very mismatched broken puzzle pieces that still fit together anyway. I feel safe for the first time since Stefanie came into our bedroom complaining about a nightmare. “So good to see you, Bon. We’ve really missed you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She steps back, her happy outer shell cracking slightly. “So I’ve been told.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I don’t really know where to begin, what to ask her about what else she knows, where she’s been running off to. So I go for the easier route. “How’s Enzo?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s good. He’s really good.” She gives off the vibe that this was the wrong question to ask. We can never just have one problem at once. Why does everyone else have to be on edge when I am? Can I not have a minute to suffer in solitude? I want to talk to her, make sure she’s ok, see what’s up with Enzo, but I want to wait until we’re alone so I hold my tongue for the time being.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damon, here,” Ric says, passing me a master key and stepping up to Bonnie. “Glad you’re back,” he says, giving her a one armed hug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, guys. I’m so happy to see you again, and I’m beyond grateful that you’re safe,” she says, looking at each of us in turn. “But I just drove for about eleven hours straight, so I’ll see you in the morning.” She gives us a little wave before picking up the backpack and duffle on the floor beside her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, let me get that,” Ric offers, taking the larger bag from her. She gives him a small thankful smile and the two of them head for the stairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take the quiet minute to step into the parlor and glance around. It really doesn’t look like much has changed- I had expected there to be school desks everywhere and chalkboards attached to the antique walls, but I don’t even think that Ric has switched out the couches since I’ve been home last. It’s suddenly a lot, being here. There’s a rush of warmth to my chest, a secure, happy feeling, but with it comes a hollow space. I almost expect him to turn the corner and join us. His presence in this house is so much heavier than I anticipated it being. I miss him. I really fucking miss him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elena steps beside me, biting her lip as she takes her time surveying the room as well. We stand in silence like that for a minute, just…. Thinking. Remembering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’re you doing?” I ask without looking directly at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ask me in a little bit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I nod my head, but I can’t tell if she sees it or not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Same for me.” I give it one more second before releasing a lungful of air. “I’m gonna bring our stuff up to the room.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok. I just…” She clears her throat. “I just need a minute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I lean over and kiss the top of her head. “Take your time,” I whisper into her hair. I head back to the foyer and pick up all of the bags, throwing the straps over my shoulders. When I start up the stairs, she still hasn’t moved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>* * * * * * * *</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m worried about what I’m about to see. I’m holding my breath as the door cracks, but it’s…. Literally exactly as I had left it. Props to Ric for keeping my room dust free and even, it appears, changing the sheets for us. I step into the room and toss our bags to the ground, glancing around the walls that I have known for more than 170 years now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My boots echo on the hardwood floor familiarly as I cross the room to open the shades. The sunlight pours in through the minutely warped glass panes, distorting the trees beyond the property enough so that I can only see green smudges edging the lawn. Something about the blur sparks an image. A memory maybe? Or something invented in one of my weird vision dreams? I’m running through those very trees and I have a definite goal, but I can’t remember what it is. I’m at a nonhuman speed, for sure, so it’s just probably the remnants of some long forgotten mission from at least ten years ago. Being back was bound to remind me of the old days, right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey.” I turn around and Elena’s standing in my doorway, looking a little less wrecked than she did downstairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shuts the heavy oak door behind her and makes her way across the room. “You ok?” She asks as she takes my jacket by the collar and pushes it down my arms. She’s shorter than me, so when I slip out of the sleeves, her chest has to press up against mine to reach far enough to get it all the way off. She starts to back away from me to hang it up or throw it on the bed or something, but I don’t let her get far before I wrap her in my arms and start kissing her. She seems surprised by my sneak attack and drops my jacket to the floor- it’s a John Varvatos, so I should be bothered that it’s getting left on the ground but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot</span>
  </em>
  <span> find it in me to care right now. This is the way I should have kissed her every night this week, but always got too distracted before I could. It’s the kind of kiss that begins innocently enough, just a long solid press of our lips up against each other, but then evolves until there are tongues and teeth everywhere, and it’s sloppy and messy and we’ve both had way too much practice doing this for it to feel like I’m a teenager that has no idea what he’s doing but hoping to God that she’s enjoying it as much as he is. Her hands are on my face and mine are trying to touch as much of her as possible, roaming her back and lifting the hem of her shirt so my fingers can touch skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damon,” she tries to say, but neither of us really break away long enough for it to sound like a real word. I can’t tell if she’s just into it or if she’s trying to say something mood killing. Either way, we’re not doing this revving the engine with nowhere to go thing again. So I bite on her lip to shut her up, and slide my hands down until they’re resting under her ass. I’ve pulled this move so many times before that she knows it’s coming, and hops slightly as I lift her. Our mouths don’t even miss a beat and I can hear the Olympic judges yelling </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tens across the board! </span>
  </em>
  <span>in my head. Her legs wrap around my waist as if they were made to be there, locking her ankles behind me. The heat’s rising in my chest as I walk her to my bed and sit her on the edge. I want to just revel in this moment, take my time, go at it slow, but Elena’s hands have slid to my chest without my noticing and are now efficiently popping open the buttons down the front of my shirt. My human brain always seems to be a step behind. I’m still processing that she’s started undressing me while she, unfortunately, remains fully clothed when she starts pulling on my hair again. She’s laying herself down on the bedsheets and tugging me right up on top of her body. And that’s it, folks, I’m an absolute lost cause. Slave to Elena Salvatore, as always.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Elena, Elena, Elena,” I groan nonsensically as she yanks my hair up towards the ceiling so she can start nibbling on my neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want?” She asks me, keeping one hand knotted in my mane while the other travels down the back of my neck and under the collar of my shirt that I don’t know why I’m still wearing. Her fingernails graze my skin lightly, sending shivers down my spine until I’m seeing stars behind my eyelids. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What do I want? What does it matter what I want, I have everything I want right in front of me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I apparently take too long to answer, because she’s rolling me onto my back now and clambering on top of me like I’m the only liferaft in a frozen sea. Framing my body with her thighs, she sits right on my lap- where I’ve been at half mast since she got my hair involved- and slowly draws me a beautiful figure 8 with her hips. My hands have a mind of their own again and they’re on her sides, just feeling the sway and rhythm under her clothes. “We’re dry humping like a couple of 8th graders,” I state as a neutral fact.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want me to stop?” Her hips freeze as she gives me a demure smile. Her fingers are dancing along my chest and stomach, tracing the lines and curves of my skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only if you can think of something better to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looks upward, squinting slightly and pressing one finger to her lower lip as if she’s trying to remember some long forgotten fact from her high school history class. Her free hand is still touching me, slotting her fingers between the bumps of my ribcage. Every part of us fits together so perfectly, it’s almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>criminal</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Hmmm…” She hums, but I’m so done with her games. My hands slide around her back and pull upward on the hem of her shirt until it comes over the top of her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damon!” She laughs out, grabbing at the garment before I slide it all the way off her arms. She’s smiling for real, perched up on her favorite throne and just genuinely losing herself in a really good moment. I’ve missed this for her. It’s only been a few days since all of this started, but it feels like a century since I’ve seen her so happy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” I say, forgetting myself for a second. Where are the snarky whips? The biting charms? Damon Salvatore is never dull enough to say such boringly romantic things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Quite the looker yourself,” she says, dangling her shirt above my face and letting it drop across my eyes, blocking out my vision. I raise my hands to take it off, but fingers intertwine in mine before they get there. “No,” she whines, guiding my hands until they’re flat on the bed on either side of my head, palms upward. “Leave it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d call you a vamp, but… You know,” I say as her fingertips trail down my arms, catching on my shirtsleeves before they disappear. Again, why are we still wearing </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> clothes at all? I can feel her leaning over me and the unrelenting electricity between us is almost audibly buzzing as she gets closer. I want to say more things to distract myself from how unbelievably hot this is, how hot this </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> is, but my words have left me. She’s still sitting on me, still touching me, and I feel like I could lose it any second. Her breath is hot on my cheek for a split second before she gives me the tiniest chaste peck. My lips try to find her, but she’s already lifted out of range. “Elena,” I groan out again, not even really sure what I’m asking for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shhhh,” she directs, and then she’s kissing my lips. The heat’s different now; it’s still passionate and all encompassing, but it’s so much slower. More deliberate. And then she’s gone. I’m lying on the bed exactly as she left me, upper half of my face still covered and hands next to my head on the comforter. She’s gotten off of me entirely and I feel very left out of whatever she’s doing right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This feels a lot like you’re making something up to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” I say without moving. “When I’m the one who’s supposed to be making something up to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I didn’t think you did a very good job of it before, so I’m taking matters into my own hands,” she volleys back, lifting my left leg and pulling off my boot, sock going along with it. I roll my eyes even though she can’t see it. Once my other foot is bare as well, I feel her come between my legs. “You think too much,” she states simply and seemingly out of nowhere while she starts unbuttoning my jeans.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I assure you, I am thinking about absolutely nothing right now. My head is totally empty. Namaste and all that jazz.” I’m trying to play it cool, but she’s being very mindful of where I’m currently throbbing, barely touching me as she drags the zipper down. She shoves her fingers under the band of my boxers around my hips and starts taking my pants off in slow motion. I raise my hips so it’s easier for her to pull them down my legs, and she lightly kisses my lower belly. I want to fucking scream. “Whole lotta nothin’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe that’s why you lack creativity in bed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” I lift the edge of the shirt to take a peek. She’s tugging the leg of my pants off of my foot in just her underwear. Lovely. I sit up as swiftly as I can and grab her around the middle, yanking her back on top of me. She laughs another real laugh and I roll the two of us until her head is on a pillow and I’m holding myself above her on my elbows. She’s still grinning when her hands come to either side of my face. I don’t move for a minute, trying to ignore that my dick is pulsing and so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> close to her nearly naked body. “No creativity that time in the shower?” Her hands pull at my face, lifting herself to try and kiss me again, but I move away. I’m not gonna let it be </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> easy for her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which time?” She asks, laying back on the pillow. Her pinky finger is twisting at the nape of my neck, curling around a short tendril of hair around it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, so there are </span>
  <em>
    <span>many</span>
  </em>
  <span> creative shower nights, then.” I shift all of my weight onto my right arm and let my left hand wander under her back to fiddle with her bra strap. “And what about the day that we went for a picnic in the woods?” The clasp unhooks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I only remember how great the potato salad was that day,” she says boredly, arching her back to let my hand free.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm.” I purse my lips like I’m concentrating. “That’s so weird, because I recall you were picking leaves out of your hair </span>
  <em>
    <span>well</span>
  </em>
  <span> into the next day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe not </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> the way into the next day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I leave her bra as it is, straps loose, but still covering her chest- for decency’s sake, of course. I let my hand travel around her side and down her stomach until it’s skimming the seam of her underwear. “What about…” A finger glides under the fabric, then another. “What about our anniversary this year?” I trace down further until I can feel how wet she is- just a light, exploratory touch before I pull back. Her feet slide on the comforter so that her knees cage my body. Her disinterested facade begins to crack as her hips ever so slightly begin to swivel, trying to get more attention from me. “I felt like I did pretty alright that night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I dunno,” she whispers, clearly running thin on the comebacks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I lean down at the same time that I bring my fingers back to her body, slipping one in excruciatingly slow. Close to her ear, I whisper, “Why don’t you tell me about it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She whines softly as my finger goes in up to the hilt. I hope she gets that I’m refusing to move it until she starts talking. “You brought champagne,” she says breathily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I watch her face flush, blotchy pink spots spreading across her cheeks and chest as I start curling my finger inside her. Gorgeous. “Oh yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she whimpers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What else?” I start teasing a second finger into her, but clearly, it’s not enough. Her hips start bucking, but I apply some pressure downward on her pelvis with my palm to hold her still. “Tell me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You… You…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While she’s thinking, I bend my head between her perfect tits and grab her bra with my teeth. I pull it off of her, her arms slipping limpy through the bands as if she can barely tell what I’m doing. I let it fall to the bedspread beside us, while I leisurely, yet steadily, fuck her with two fingers. “I what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You gave me a massage. And there were candles… And...” She’s gripping at the collar of my open shirt now, pulling me down and trying to make our faces meet. I allow our lips to just graze, tempted to let her take control again. But I’m having too much fun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I readjust myself so that I’m sitting back on my knees and looking down at her body in full- her legs are spread obscenely wide and her chest is heaving. I start yanking her underwear down her smooth thighs with my free hand, never losing my rhythm all the while. “And?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, Damon,” she groans, kicking her panties to the side once I’d gotten them down to her ankles. She hooks her foot around me, trying to pull me in, whether to kiss her again or fuck her for real, I’m not sure, but my constitution is running dry and I know I’m going to give into her soon. I always give in to her. She’s reaching for me, and I take one of her hands and interlace our fingers. She tries pulling me towards her, but I stay strong. She pouts at me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s got you so whiny?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to blame it on the shitty week I’ve been having.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I shrug my shoulders and nod. Fair point, I guess. She’s earned some neediness. “Fine. One more question.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sticks out her lower lip again and tugs on my hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was it good that night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I tell you what you wanna hear, will you fuck me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I start to lay myself down on my stomach between her legs, letting her fingers slip out of mine. I skim my hand down her stomach to her thigh, gently nudging her legs to part even wider. “Probably not,” I snark. My hand slides under her thigh until I’m gripping the outside of it, fingernails digging into her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her head falls back on the pillow and her forearm comes to lay across her eyes. “It was pretty amazing, actually,” she finally admits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good to hear.” I nip at the pale skin of her inner thigh. I never did end up giving her that hickey the other night, I figure as I suck lightly. It almost feels vampy in here again. Almost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ever the impatient receiver, she grabs a fistful of my hair and jerks. I don’t know when she picked up on how much I like that. Probably about five minutes into the first time we had sex honestly. “You’re a tease,” she accuses, but I’m pretty much always ready to prove her wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I kiss her where my fingers are still pumping in her, and pull out just enough so that I can slide my tongue between them, licking right inside and getting a taste. Her talons loosen in my hair and I can feel a shudder run all the way through her. I fuck my fingers back into her, regaining my cadence while my tongue travels upward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s muttering small affirmations on her inhales while I play around with her, licking and pressing and touching and sucking in </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> the right places. I even do that tongue thing I do when I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to get her going, but she’s definitely holding back on me. “Hey.” I turn back to the pale bruising on her thigh and sink my teeth back into her- </span>
  <em>
    <span>lightly</span>
  </em>
  <span> of course, I’m not a monster anymore, but she still yelps at the surprise of my bite. “You can be loud, they can’t hear us.” I take a look at my handiwork, the gentle reddening of her skin and the slight impressions from my dull incisors already beginning to fade as I watch. I press my cheek against it and rub my two-day stubble on her leg when she says it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The most damning of all phrases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>make me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I look up at her in disbelief- she’s still hiding her eyes in the crook of her elbow, but damn it, she’s smiling like she knows she’s got me in the palm of her hand and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely</span>
  </em>
  <span> does. I take my fingers out of her and crawl up her body at near vamp-speed. “Oh, you’re gonna be </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” I push her arm off of her eyes so she can see how serious I look and her smile grows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I?” She bats her lashes and bites her lip and that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span> for me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I grab her wrist and hold it on the pillow above her head for good measure and lean in to kiss her. I could fucking do this all day. Just sloppy, shameless, unforgiving make out sessions. I’d do it </span>
  <em>
    <span>clothed</span>
  </em>
  <span>, even. Kissing her is just so... </span>
  <em>
    <span>Right</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Like every bad choice I’ve ever made was maybe ok because it all lead me to this second right here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, wait, wait,” she whispers into my mouth, fingers of her free hand pressing to my jaw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I hum, but only move my lips to her throat, not too keen on the idea of actually stopping. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We’re so close, please don’t do this to me now.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Condom.” She taps me on the side of my face as if trying to get my attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I sigh into her neck, getting a little rush of serotonin when I feel goosebumps raise on her skin against my lips. “Does it always suck this bad being human?” I take a beat to make sure that my legs aren’t going to buckle under me once I attempt to stand up. They seem to be ok, so I roll off of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, absolutely,” she confirms, but in a less mocking tone adds, “I just don’t want to deal with the mess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pfff.” I grab the bag from near the door and bring it to the bed, trying to ignore that I am positively aching for it at this point. “As if you’re ever the one dealing with the mess anyway.” I start digging through the side pockets, wondering if I even remembered to pack any rubbers. That would fucking blow. Believe it or not, safe sex was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the top of my priority list when I threw all my shit into some luggage and high tailed it out of dodge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Front inside pocket.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I look at her to roll my eyes and see that she’s staring at me in my mostly all the way naked glory, teeth digging into her lower lip again. “You should take a picture, it’ll last longer.” I’m only a little annoyed to find the sleeve of condoms right where she said they’d be, plus a little something extra right beside them. I rip one off and toss it in her direction before pushing the bag onto the floor with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thud</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The pictures are never as good as the real thing.” She tears open the foil while I crawl back onto the bedspread between her legs. I honestly just want to make out more, kiss her and kiss her and kiss her until the sun goes down and comes back up again. So I do, for a minute.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then her deft little hands are on me, squeezing and stroking me until she knows I’m hard enough to roll the condom on. Then I don’t want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> kiss her and kiss her and kiss her, I want to do it all. I wanna be inside her, on top of her, underneath her. I want to make her whine and hear her say my name over and over and over until the world fucking ends. “No?” I try to sound gruff and sexy, but it comes out softer and way moanier than I anticipate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never,” she confirms, letting me go and moving her hands up her body until her wrists are crossed over her head on the pillow. She cocks an eyebrow at me expectantly and I’ve got no choice but to oblige.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I grab both of her slim wrists in one fist, holding more as a suggestion than real restraint and she lets out a sigh of pure contentment. “Ready?” I ask, lining myself up with her. I’ve barely got the word out of my mouth before she’s nodding frantically, a few whisps of her hair falling in front of her face. She’s so wet, and she’s wrapping her legs around me again, and it feels like I’m really home. Time to ruin it. “Wait…” I turn my head to the door and hold totally still.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I feel her muscles tense in my grip when she whispers a small “what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I hold up a finger as if I’m listening intently. “Just waiting for a kid to walk in or the house to start burning down or something. There’s no way this is going this well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sinks into the sheets in relief, and I know she would’ve smacked me if she had the ability to. “You’re an asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What made you think I wasn’t? Is my reputation waning?” That’s when I decide it’s time to push into her. Fuck, she’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>wet</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I have to blink a few times to keep myself from blowing my load right then at the tight warmth around me. Her face goes from endearingly annoyed to blissed out instantly and her legs tighten their grip around my waist. “Fuck,” she breathes, flexing her fingers a few times. “Damon…” I blink a few more times to gain my bearings again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I meld our mouths back together before I start pumping my hips, slowly at first, finding a rhythm, before speeding up to match the shallow attempts at thrusts she’s giving me. There’s been too much build up, too much God damn tension this week, and she wants it hard and fast. So I give it to her exactly as she needs. She’s moaning into my mouth, and maybe I’m moaning too, but I’m too preoccupied with everything else to even notice. She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> tight around me, and she’s gyrating and I can feel her chest- her beautiful, perfect chest that hasn’t gotten nearly enough attention yet tonight- pressing against mine, and she’s holding me so close with her legs and her scent is encompassing me, taking over my brain and all I can think is </span>
  <em>
    <span>more more more</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I free her wrists so I can get some better leverage, and her hands waste no time- one goes to my face, tangles in my hair, clutches at the collar of my open shirt. The other goes right to where we’re connected- her fingers glide through her folds to feel how stretched she is around me while I pulse in and out of her. God, it’s so fucking hot when she does that. The light touch of her fingers and feeling of the satisfied smile on her face through our kiss nearly fucking sends me. She shifts her hand upward to start rubbing her clit but I think she’s already done enough work for tonight. I grab the surprise guest I found in the bag and push her fingers aside. She makes a mildly objecting noise from her throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I lift my face from hers. “Hey, none of that,” I whisper, trying to twist the end of her bullet vibe with one hand to turn it on. There’s a satisfying </span>
  <em>
    <span>click</span>
  </em>
  <span> when it starts buzzing, and I press it up against her, eliciting a full body shiver. “See? I’ve got you,” I mutter while she runs her fingers through my hair. “I’ve got you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my God, oh-” I can feel it before she even says it; her motions are becoming way more spastic, her breathing so choppy that I wonder if she’s even getting enough oxygen to her brain. She’s contracting harshly around me, and I lean in to rub my lips along the junction of her neck and shoulder while letting her ride out the wave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I have the strangest relationship with my name. It seems like it’s been the only constant in the nearly 200 years of my life and it’s become somewhat of a muted placeholder in my mind. I’ve heard it so many times that it’s nothing more than a personalized attention grabber, and I don’t feel much connection to it. But the way it flows out of Elena’s mouth in a string of whispered prayers when I make her come, it’s poetry. I never want to hear another word again besides </span>
  <em>
    <span>DamonDamonDamonDamon</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Connection made.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once she seems to have calmed down some, I slow my pace and take the vibe off her clit. “Ok… Ok,” she breathes, stroking along the back of my neck. Her eyes still look a little crossed- I’ve still fucking got it. “Are you close?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m literally always one sultry look from you away from creaming my pants.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Charming.” she rolls her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I make you come again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe,” she says, releasing her iron grip around my waist. “Take your shirt off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh. Right. Fast as a flash, I pull the offending button up off of my body and throw it to the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She puts a hand on my now exposed shoulder and pushes until I very regretfully slip out of her and roll onto my back. It doesn’t take long for her to crawl back on top of me, and I can’t say it’s a bad view from down here once she’s straddling my waist. “Bet I can get you to come first, though.” She grabs my still throbbing dick and lines it up with her entrance. I swear to God I can hear angels singing while she lowers herself onto me until she’s flush with my hips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see what I can do,” I say confidently, but, fuck, I don’t know if I’m going to make it long enough to see her through another orgasm before I bust. While she starts gentle motions on my lap, I put one hand on her lower back, palm spread wide. I hold her gently in place while I start thumbing at her clit. She’s still so fucking wet, </span>
  <em>
    <span>holy shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Her eyes drift close and I try to sit myself up without the use of my arms- who needs a gym when she’s giving me reasons to work my core right here in my bedroom? It’s tough with her erratic bouncing and the odd angle my neck is at, but I manage to suck one of her nipples into my mouth and lick around the hardened nub.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” is all she can manage to get out. She wraps her arms around my neck and cards her fingers through my hair, arching her back under my hand. I skim my teeth on the soft skin of her breast to hear the noise again and she definitely doesn’t disappoint.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so fucking good for me,” I whisper. I think this might be the final nail in the coffin for her- I’m inside her, playing with her clit, mouthing my way across her tits, and I know she can’t resist a little pillowtalk. I can get pretty filthy with it, but I think she likes it more when it errs more towards the romantic side. “Do you even know how hot you get me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shhh.” She covers my lip with one finger to shut me up, but I nip at the end of it before continuing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can never stop thinking about you.” Basically her whole palm is covering the bottom half of my face now, but I don’t let it stop me, muffled as my words may be. “Never stop thinking about touching you, holding you, fucking you absolutely senseless.” I’m speeding up my ministrations, and she is going wild rocking on me, releasing small happy noises. She’s probably still super sensitive right now and it’s got me feeling some type of way knowing I’m the one getting her to this place. “God, it doesn’t even matter where the hell I am. Bank, grocery store, work. I’m thinking about your body under me. I’m thinking about feeling you on me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t announce her orgasm this time, she lets her expression do all the talking for her. She lets out a series of breathy moans while I keep my pace matching hers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You feel so fucking good, Elena, fuck. You’re so good, so good, baby.” I don’t know what it is about sex with her that makes the pet names start coming out of me. I’m far too creative to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>baby</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of person generally, but my brain turns to mush in moments like this. I don’t have the capacity at the moment to do better. “Baby,” I mutter again as her breathing slows and her hand slides down to my chest. “That’s two.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am… Very well aware.” She traces her fingers around my pec, her own chest still rising and falling harshly. “I can blow you if you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A kind offer, but I’ve already made up my mind on how I want her. I toss her off of me onto her back and get back over her, folding her long legs until her knees are by her shoulders. God, she’s so fucking gorgeous. Huge smile plastered across her face, her whole body on display for me. I’m still not sure how someone as awful as me got this lucky. “Want you like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perfect,” she sighs out, totally in her post orgasmic bliss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With no more hesitation, I slip back into her and start hammering my hips into hers. Her ankles fall to my shoulders and she lets out another sinful noise from the back of her throat. With all of the build up, it doesn’t take much for me to feel the coiling in my lower belly. “Fuck, Lena,” I gasp out. She’s touching me, it feels like everywhere all at once, whispering things I can barely hear through the blood pumping in my ears. She coaxes my orgasm from me like the expert she is, like she knows my body better than I do. She probably does. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I hang over her, breathing hard for a moment more before slipping my softening cock out of her body. “How about now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How about now what?” She answers with another question, obviously confused. She cocks her head to the side and strokes her thumbs over my cheekbones. Her face is still flushed with arousal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’re you doing now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She seems taken aback at first, but settles after a millisecond. “Oh. Better now,” she replies, running her fingers through my hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Same for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I roll off of her so we’re lying side by side. We don’t say anything more and the quiet is nice. It’s not an expectant or worrying silence, just a real calm moment, filled only with the slowing of our harmonized breathing. Just a human couple who are madly in love, post coital, enjoying each other’s company. No danger, no vampires, no threat. Normal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take her hand. We’ll say something again soon, break the illusion. We’ll get up, we’ll shower (hopefully together), we’ll start making a game plan with everyone else. We’ll be back to the horrible reality that is the current state of our lives. But right now… Normal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And naked, which is definitely my favorite kind of normal.</span>
</p>
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